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Live to combat, 
Die to win. 





J 

LOVE ENCHAINED 

AND OTHER PLAYS 


BY 

G. M. PELLETTIERI 



THE STRATFORD COMPANY 
Publishers 

Boston, Massachusetts 








VS35'31 

,L-sLe 

IS 


Copyright, 1924 

The STRATFORD CO., Publishers 
Boston, Mass. 



The Alpine Press, Boston, Mass., U. S. A. 


AN 17 1924 

‘Cl A7 7706 3 



iM V 



LOVE ENCHAINED 


Comedy in Five Acts 


TO MY VERY DEAR FRIEND 

ARTURO TOMAIUOLI 

TO CEMENT MORE SECURELY THE FRIENDSHIP 
THAT BINDS US, I AFFECTIONATELY 
DEDICATE THIS MODEST WORK 

G. M. P. 


Love Enchained 


CHARACTERS 

Arthur Grant — poet. 

Helen — his wife. 

Walter Davis — painter and sculptor. 
Portia Parke — his fiancee. 

Richard Pratt 

Gloria Miner — his fiancee. 

Dana Lee 
Annette Martin 
Alice Franklin 
Countess Ghigioni 
Miscellaneous Characters 

First and fifth acts: in New York City. 
Second, third and fourth acts: in Italy. 
Time: the present. 


Act I 


Arthur Grant’s study. The walls are lined with well- 
filled bookcases. At the center-back is a tall clock. A table 
in the center of the room is heaped with newspapers, maga¬ 
zines, etc. In the right foreground is Arthur’s desk. There 
is a door at the left and one at the right of the scene. 

As the curtain rises, Arthur is seated at his desk, lost in 
reverie. From time to time he jots down something on a 
paper before him. The clock chimes twice. It is 2 a. m. 

Arthur (Starting abruptly): Two o’clock! (He glances 
toward the partly opened door at the right) And Helen 
has not come in yet. (Picking up a book, he turns its pages 
idly, half-absorbed in his own thoughts, then stops suddenly 
at a page and reads aloud): 

“And when wind and winter harden 
All the loveless land, 

It will whisper of the garden, 

You will understand.” 

Ah! (Sighing) Poor Wilde, you knew what it meant to be 
unhappy. (He turns the page and continues reading): 

“And all men kill the thing they love, 

By all let this be heard, 

Some do it with a bitter look, 

Some with a flattering word, 

The coward does it with a kiss, 

(He throws the book aside impatiently.) Bravo! but I 

[ 5 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


couldn’t do it. (Rising, he paces the room nervously.) No, 
not I, although the love that bums in my breast is hotter 
than Hell’s fire. Oh Helen, poor vain, frivolous creature, 
how can you neglect me so in your mad pursuit of worldly 
pleasure? I love you, (despairingly) but you — I can hardly 
bear it any longer. Some day you’ll beg on your knees for 
my love and perhaps then it will be too late. (Helen enters 
in time to hear Arthur’s last words.) 

Helen (Glancing at the clock): Late? Why, it is only 
two o’clock. 

Arthur: I wasn’t referring to the hour, although it is 
late for a respectable woman to be coming home. 

Helen: I didn’t expect to find you up. You should have 
been in bed hours ago, my dear hermit. 

Arthur : Helen, you can’t realize how much your actions 
hurt me. 

Helen: What do you expect? that I should shut myself 
up like a snail? Thank you, I haven’t the least tendency 
toward becoming a misanthropist when the world is so 
beautiful. 

Arthur: You will learn in time that worldly pleasures 
are only temporary; when the roses have faded from your 
cheeks you will look back with regret to these days. 

Helen: Philosophy, always philosophy. You literary 
men pretend that everyone should think as you do. 

Arthur: Your words are as offensive as your actions. 

Helen: What do you mean? I am always careful to 
keep within the bounds of propriety. 

[ 6 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur: I doubt it. 

Helen (Pettishly): Go on, add insult to injury. You are 
angry, and if you have nothing more interesting to discuss 
I think I had better go. 

Arthur (Tenderly): Helen, I want to talk to you. Do 
you realize that it is hardly a year that we have been 
married ? 

Helen (Indifferently): A year? It seems a century. 

Arthur : And ours was a marriage of love — at least on 
my part. 

Helen : I hope you don’t think I would have married 
you if I hadn’t loved you. 

Arthur : No. I believe you did love me then, but, some¬ 
how, it seems that all my golden dreams have vanished. 

Helen : It is all your fault if they have. 

Arthur: What have you found in me that has caused 
your love to cool? 

Helen: Your temperament. 

Arthur: Isn’t my love just as ardent as it was in the 
beginning? 

Helen: Too much so, in fact. 

Arthur: Have I neglected my duty, or failed to show 
you the attention you expected of me? 

Helen: I haven’t said so. 

Arthur: I have given you my life’s devotion, my heart 
and soul. 


[ 7 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen: Yes, but it needs more than that to make me 
happy. 

Arthur : My every thought and desire is inspired by my 
deep love for you, still, you are neither happy or satisfied. 
What more do you seek? 

Helen (Vehemently): What do I seek? What do you 
give me? I have your love, your devotion, but not you. 
Your life is among your books. You shut yourself up in 
this gloomy room and no power on earth can draw you 
away from it. 

Arthur: Helen, this is my vocation. 

Helen: While mine, on the contrary, is to enjoy life 
while I may, to live without care. Why should you compel 
me to suffer — 

Arthur: Suffer? Are you suffering? 

Helen: Yes. We have wealth, could enjoy the best of 
everything, and we don’t do it. 

Arthur : Does your happiness depend only on such trivi¬ 
alities? 

Helen : They mean a great deal to me. 

Arthur: Is your life based only on vanity? 

Helen : Vanity? I don’t think you should call my de¬ 
sire to live in the midst of joy and happiness vanity. Your 
passion for secluding yourself, your nose ever between the 
pages of a book, is worse than vanity, it’s downright selfish¬ 
ness. 

Arthur : Ah, Helen, your frivolous mind is incapable of 

[ 8 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


understanding the sentiment I feel for you. Your search 
for pleasure has altered your feeling for me. 

Helen (Shrugs her shoulders without responding). 

Arthur: You can’t understand the joy of living ab¬ 
sorbed in your own spirit, feeling the exaltation of your 
mind to the supreme sweetness and idealism of true love_ 

Helen: Pooh! Philosophy, idealism! Beautiful flights 
of fancy. 

Arthur: Don’t mock, Helen. You insult me, laugh at 
my love, my ideals. 

Helen: What are you going to do about it? 

Arthur: You take me for a fool, eh? Well, before you 
succeed in destroying the last shred of affection I feel for 
you, before you force me to hate you altogether, I think it 
best — 

Helen (Alarmed): You don’t mean that, your mind is 
disturbed — 

Arthur: I mean it, every word of it. 

Helen: You mean that you despise me? 

Arthur (Not trusting himself to answer, nods his head 
and flings himself into a chair and rests his head on his 
hands with an air of utter dejection.) 

Helen: So! you despise me? my man of ideals, the one 
who pledged me eternal love, who lived only for his Helen. 
I knew it, you are no different from the rest. It is always 
those who pretend to be the most idealistic who are really 
the least sincere and dependable. Bravo! my poet, whose 

[ 9 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


poetry survives only the intoxication of the first embraces. 
Today you love one, tomorrow another. 

Arthur (Brokenly): My poor, wasted, love. 

Helen (Fiercely): When the beautiful, fragrant, flower 
attracts you, your senses are intoxicated, you pluck it and, 
after you have satisfied yourself with its perfume, you 
crush it and cast it aside with disgust. 

Arthur: Helen, you don’t know what you are saying. 

Helen: I have been but one more flower in your life. 
You have taken the best of what was concealed in it, now 
it has no more fragrance for you, no further attraction. 

Arthur: You are talking without reason — 

Helen : I have reason enough left to recognize my duty. 

I shall leave you free to follow your inclinations, to seek 
other flowers, other interests, to enjoy your philosophy, 
your idealism, without the burden of my presence. 

Arthur: What do you mean? 

Helen: I am going to give you your freedom. 

Arthur: You mean that you are going to leave me? 

Helen: Yes, the only remedy for the situation is sepa¬ 
ration, and later — a divorce. 

Arthur (Leaving his chair, he strides toward his wife): 
Ah! that is what you want. How artfully you had pre¬ 
pared your ground, how cunningly you led up to the point. 

Helen : You told me with your own lips that you hated 
me. 

Arthur (Gripping her tightly by the wrists, he places 

[ 10 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


his face close to hers and seeks to compel her to meet his 
gaze). Look at me! See what you can read in my eyes. 

Helen (Trying to pull away from him): Let go, you are 
hurting me. 

Arthur: Look at me, look at me. Ah! your eyes don’t 
dare to meet mine. Look, and you will find sincerity, love 
and not hate. Oh, I have been a fool — 

Helen : Let me go, let me go! 

Arthur: A fool to believe in you, to waste my love on 
one whose only aim is unbridled liberty. You were tired of 
so much love, so much devotion. And you call me a brute, 
accuse me of casting aside the flower because it has lost 
its fragrance. Ha-ha-ha. 

Helen: Let go! 

Arthur (Bitterly): No. The rose is still beautiful to 
me, but the serpent’s venom has killed its perfume. 

Helen : Ah! 

Arthur: That is all. Go, follow where fancy leads, but 
before you leave I am going to give you the last taste of 
my passion for you, my last kiss. May it bring you eternal 
remorse and rob you forever of your peace of mind. (He 
crushes her violently to him. Helen struggles hut is help¬ 
less in his hands. Arthur bends over her and hungrily seeks 
her lips. He kisses her passiotmtely while Helen screams, 
then loses consciousness.) 

(The curtain falls.) 


[ii] 


Act II 


Five years later. 

Helen’s villa at Sorrento, on the Bay of Naples. 

At the rise of the curtain, Portia Parke, Gloria Miner, 
Dana Lee, Annette Martin and Alice Franklin (Helen’s 
friends from America) are making a tour of inspection of 
the villa and the grounds surrounding it. 

Time: Late afternoon. 

Portia (Clapping her hands ecstatically): Sorrento! 
What a beautiful place; it seems like a spot in fairyland, 
doesn’t it, Dana? And such a darling villa! 

Dana: Wonderful! The sea flowing so near adds to its 
beauty. 

Portia: Did you ever see a sky so blue? 

Dana : It reminds me of that of Florida, only it is clearer 
and brighter. 

Portia : Helen must lead a very peaceful and happy life 
here. 

Dana : A carefree one, at least. (Glancing at Gloria who 
is spellbound by the beauty of the place.) Gloria, what do 
you think about it? 

Portia: See how quiet she is. 

Alice: Lost in profound meditation. 

Annette : She’s thinking about her Richard, eh, Gloria ? 

[12] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Gloria : You guessed it exactly. I was thinking of him. 

Annette: With such a melancholy expression? 

Alice: That’s the effect love has on one, Annette. But 
it will never affect me that way, I wouldn’t lose my peace 
of mind for anyone. 

Gloria: Alice, you don’t know what you are talking 
about. I suppose we can help our feelings. 

Alice: You should be strong, resist — 

Annette : The strongest are the ones who fall the easiest. 
The lightning always picks the highest oak. 

Dana: What kind of a conversation do you call this. 
From the sea and the blue sky we pass to oaks that have 
been struck by lightning. 

Gloria: Brrr! Ugly things to talk about. 

Portia: Sad, I should say. But we were talking of love; 
who changed the subject? 

Dana: Why, you did. 

Portia : I did not, it was Annette. 

Annette: I only made a statement and strengthened it 
with an example. 

Dana: Yes, and a gloomy example at that, out of keep¬ 
ing with the place and the time. 

Gloria: I was absorbed in my own sweet thoughts and 
Annette had to come and disturb them. 

Annette (Teasingly): There, there, don’t cry, dear I 

Portia: Poor child, are her feelings hurt? 

[13] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Gloria: Alright, enjoy yourselves. Just wait, you’ll find 
yourself in the same fix someday. 

Alice: We hope so. 

Annette: Hear! hear! the quiet little mouse who pre¬ 
tends to be immune from love is beginning to have hopes. 

Alice: You don’t want me to be an old maid, do you? 

Annette (Clasping her hands in mock fervour): Lord 
keep us from getting old. 

Dana: It seems that we just can’t get away from un¬ 
pleasant subjects. (A hell rings.) Oh, a visitor. Who can 
it be? 

Alice (Peeking through the gate): It’s a man. 

All (In chorus): A man! a man! 

Gloria: Yes, but he belongs to me. (Richard enters the 
gate.) 

Richard: Ah! a cheerful group. The Italian skies seem 
to have a happy effect on you. 

Portia: Yes, at least it has raised our spirits, if you 
only knew — 

Richard : Speaking of spirits, I know you can find plenty 
in the villa, and any place around here. The idle life you 
lead here has made you all really nice looking. 

All: Thanks for the wonderful compliment. 

Gloria: Don’t act like a clown, Richard. 

Portia: Those compliments are only meant for you, 
Gloria. 

Richard : Not for her alone, the rest of you are included. 

[14] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Alice (Mockingly): My, but aren’t you generous. 

Annette: Yes, he seems to be full of “spirits.” 

Richard: I got that one, Annette. I don’t deny it — 
two little glasses of Vermouth. 

All: Oh!oh! 

Richard: They certainly did a lot toward making me 
cheerful. 

Portia: You talk like you could never get anything to 
drink in America. You always had your share. 

Alice: But it didn’t seem to have the same effect over 
there, did it Richard. I think it is on account of the hos¬ 
pitality, the lightheartedness of the people here; they are 
always happy. 

Richard: Especially in Naples, the “Paradise on earth.” 
That’s the reason we come here so often; they inspire us 
with some of their joy of living. Oh, speaking of inspira¬ 
tion, do you know that Walter has placed a picture on 
exhibition that is really a masterpiece? 

Alice: Really? 

Portia: Walter is very enthusiastic about Italy. 

Richard: He has been here two weeks and has already 
become famous. 

Gloria : I met him the other day and he promised to be 
here this evening, but asked me not to mention that I had 
seen him. 

Richard: I have some more news, too. Arthur Grant 
arrived yesterday. 


[15] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


All (Surprised): Arthur? 

Dana: For Heaven’s sake, don’t shout! If Helen should 
hear us — 

Richard : Helen would be glad to see him again. 

Alice: Did you see him? 

Richard: What a silly question! I met him at Walter’s 
studio. 

Annette: Is he travelling alone? 

Richard: He is, as far as I know. 

Portia: I’ll bet Walter will bring him here. Just wait 
and see. 

Alice : Impossible! 

Gloria: And why shouldn’t he? 

Dana : Helen and Arthur have neither seen or spoken to 
each other for over five years. 

Gloria : But that doesn’t mean that they won’t meet now. 

Richard: I know that he is going to be in the vicinity 
tomorrow. 

Portia: Really? Then he is coming to visit in the neigh¬ 
borhood? 

Richard: At the home of Tasso. 

Alice : For the love of Heaven, Richard! 

Richard: Let me make myself clear: I mean he is com¬ 
ing to visit the house where Torquato Tasso was born. 

Annette: Oh! thank Heaven! 

[16] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Richard: I suppose you thought I wanted to send him 
to Mount Olympus'? 

Alice: You would be capable of sending him to visit 
Pluto. 

Gloria: Oh no, Richard isn’t that bad. 

Richard (To Alice): Arthur is one of my closest friends 
and when it’s time to go there I’ll go with him. 

Alice: A pleasant trip! 

Richard: Thank you. If you would like to accompany 
us — 

Alice: No, thanks, I would rather remain here. 

Richard: All alone? 

Alice: Do you think the earth is going to be depopu¬ 
lated after you have gone? 

Dana: What a stupid argument! 

Alice: Yes, isn’t it. I make a motion that we change 
the subject. 

Dana: And I second it. Let’s talk about something 
cheerful. 

Richard: Good! That suits me to a tee. (Helen enters 
from the path at the right.) 

Helen: Hello, everybody! 

Richard: Good evening, Helen. 

All (Surrounding her): Oh, Helen, Helen! 

Helen: How are you, Richard? 

Richard: Very well, thank you. 

[ 17 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen: Have you been here very long? 

Richard : No, I came just a short while ago to surprise 
these little doves. 

All: Listen! He calls us little doves. Ha-ha. 

Helen : I would call them little sirens, instead of doves. 

Richard : Nymphs would be more appropriate. 

Portia: Earthly ones, Richard. 

Alice: And Richard shall be the Faun! 

Richard: No, thanks, not I. 

Helen : That wouldn’t be very pleasing to Gloria. 

Richard (To Gloria ): Do you think so? It seems to me 
that I am more like Apollo among the Muses. 

Alice: If you had said Mercury you would have come 
nearer to it. 

Richard: Mercury? Why I have never even stolen a pin 
in all my life. 

Dana: The only thing you have stolen was perhaps a 
kiss from Venus. 

Helen: Represented by Gloria, of course. 

Gloria: You flatter me — 

Annette: Oh my, such erudition. This seems like a 
council of ancient Gods. 

Richard : I feel like Ulysses on the island of Circe. 

Dana: Which one of us is Circe? 

Helen: Not I. 

Alice: You have first choice. 

[ 18 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen : Thank you, I renounce my rights. 

Richard: Are you afraid of Ulysses? 

Helen : To the contrary. You couldn’t fool me in spite 
of all your Olympian protection. 

Annette: And you would transform him into — 

Portia: A pig. 

Dana: A donkey would be better. 

Alice: A bat — 

Richard : Thank you; how you must like me to wish me 
such wonderful transformations; I should even make Pro- 
theus jealous. 

Annette : You could be a fortune-teller. 

Helen: Let us have a sample of your ability in that 
line, my dear Protheus. 

Richard (Looking at her with an air of comic serious¬ 
ness): Let us see! (Taking Helen’s hand and inspecting 
it carefully.) Ah! A long life, to begin with. 

Helen : That doesn’t interest me. 

Portl\: It must be some satisfaction to know that you 
are going to have a long life. 

Alice: Yes, if it would be always free from worry. 

Dana: Shh! let’s see what he will say next. 

Richard: You will travel a great deal. 

Helen : Yes, yes, go on! 

Richard: Your father will leave you a great fortune. 

All : Oh! 


[ 19 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen: I don’t care about that. 

Richard: You will be very happy. 

Helen: In what way? 

Richard: A love — 

All: Oh! 

Dana: Shh! shh! 

Richard: A great and noble love — 

Helen : That can’t be. 

Richard: Oh, yes it can. Two eyes are constantly seek¬ 
ing you — 

Helen : I don’t believe that. 

Richard: Protheus never makes an error. 

Helen: Who can it be? 

Richard : I am not permitted to reveal that — I can only 
say that this love will make you very happy. 

Helen : Impossible! 

Richard: It is possible, it is your golden dream! 

Helen: What do you know about my dreams? 

Richard : Oh, what sort of a fortune-teller do you take 
me for? I promise that your wish shall be fulfilled when 
you least expect it. 

Helen: Must I wait very long? 

Richard: No, it will be within a very short time. 

Helen (Believing Arthur to be in America, is disap¬ 
pointed and quickly withdraws her hand.) I don’t believe a 
word of what you have told me. 

[ 20 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Richard : You will soon have proof that I am right. 

All: Bravo! what a wonderful fortune-teller. 

Gloria : But Protheus of old never predicted the future 
by reading palms. 

Alice : Neither was he as gallant as Richard! 

Portia : Richard isn’t gallant, he’s just a plain flirt. (To 
Gloria) You had better keep an eye on him. 

Gloria (Starting toward Richard): I’ll fix him. 

Richard : I’ve got myself into a fine fix now. I have to 
flee like Protheus did. (He starts to run with Gloria at his 
heels. The rest all laugh, with the exception of Helen who 
remains thoughtful.) 

Annette: A fine excuse to get away from us. 

Alice: Cleverly done! 

Helen: Let them enjoy themselves. (Richard and Gloria 
return, arm in arm and laughing merrily.) 

Richard: Walter is coming. I just saw him coming 
down the road. 

(Enter Walter.) 

Walter (Removing his hat): Good evening, my dears. 
Were you expecting me? 

Helen : Yes, but it seemed a little early. 

All : Yes! 

Helen: Have you been to the city? 

Walter: Yes, I have had an unexpected visitor — 

Helen: Someone from the States? 

[ 21 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter: No— er—yes. A conventional call. 

Dana : Professional ? 

Annette: I’ll bet it was an adventure. 

Walter: How curious you are, would you really be in¬ 
terested to know? 

Helen: You can imagine! If he comes from the States. 
Walter: Well, my visitor was — Arthur Grant. 

Helen: Oh! 

Richard: What did I tell you? 

Walter: Are you satisfied now? 

Annette: Is he going to remain here long? 

Walter: I can’t say; he should be in New York by the 
beginning of the Winter season for the opening of one of 
his plays. 

Alice: That will be interesting. 

Walter: Everyone is waiting anxiously for its produc¬ 
tion. 

Dana: Are you going back with him? 

Walter: Perhaps. 

Richard (Looking at Gloria): We will return then, too. 
Gloria (Nodding her head): Yes. 

Walter: And now, I beg to be excused. 

All: Oh! going so soon? 

Walter: I have an appointment with Arthur this eve¬ 
ning. 

Richard: Where? 


[ 22 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter : In Naples, at the Galleria Umberto Primo. 

Richard (To the girls): Good! What do you say to us 
taking a little trip to Naples? 

All: That would be just fine. 

Richard (To Walter): Would it be of inconvenience to 
you? 

Walter: No, but perhaps Helen — 

Richard (To Helen): Will you come, Helen? 

Annette: Do come, Helen, then we can go into the Gal¬ 
lery and listen to the orchestra. 

Walter: Good, I shall lead you — 

Helen : I would rather not come. 

All (Surrounding her): Please, please. 

Walter (To Helen): You can come without being afraid 
that I will betray your presence if you don’t wish it. 

Helen: Oh, it isn’t for that. 

Richard: That’s no excuse. You must come, Helen. 
(To Walter): Let’s start, Helen will come. 

Walter: Alright, let’s go. 

Helen: Well, if you insist — 

All: Hurrah! we are going to Naples. (They exit 
laughing and chattering gaily , pulling Helen half-reluct¬ 
antly after them.) 

( Curtain.) 


[ 23 ] 


Act III 


Next morning. In Helen’s boudoir. 

At the rise of the curtain Helen is seated before the dress¬ 
ing table, her back toward it, and facing Portia who lounges 
in a deep, cushioned armchair placed near the center of the 
room. 

Helen : I didn’t sleep a wink the whole night through. 

Portia : I slept like a top the few hours I passed in bed. 

Helen : I wish I could be as indifferent to things as you 
are, I certainly envy you. 

Portia : It all depends upon one’s will power. If I should 
let myself go to pieces at every little thing I would be a 
nervous wreck before very long. 

Helen : That is certainly a virtue to be proud of. 

Portia : Call it a virtue, or whatever you will, but I do 
admit that I know how to control my feelings. 

Helen : There is no reason in the world why you should 
have to do so. 

Portia: Oh, you think there isn’t. Have you noticed 
how indifferent Walter has acted toward me lately? 

Helen: Nonsense! Why, we all know that Walter is 
madly in love with you. 

Portia : He has a wonderful way of showing it, if he is. 

Helen: What chance do you give him? You treat him 
with the most pronounced indifference. 

[ 24 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia: My dear, that is the only way to treat a man; 
if you show him too much condescension he is very liable 
to take advantage of you. 

Helen: Why complain, then? 

Portia: I want him to show me more attention and not 
be such a flirt. 

Helen : He isn’t any such thing. 

Portia: Oh yes he is. 

Helen : But his profession demands that he be pleasant 
to everyone. 

Portia: Admitting that, but it does not require that he 
should make love to every coquette he meets. 

Helen : Portia, you exaggerate. 

Portia: No, that is not exaggeration. Have you seen the 
portrait he is painting at present? 

Helen: What about it? 

Portia: Haven’t you noticed the extreme pains he is 
taking with it? Why, it is so life-like that it seems almost 
to palpitate, it appears like a living thing instead of a 
portrait. 

Helen: Wonderful! And you dare to find fault with 
him for that? 

Portia (Rising): And those eyes, those lips with the 
corners slightly curled as if — (clenching her fists) oh! I 
could tear it to pieces! 

Helen : Come, come, do not get so excited, you see malice 
in things that are done only for artistic effect. 

[ 25 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia: He may be a master in bis line, but he does not 
have to paint the portraits of women. I will not have it. 
(She paces back and forth, nervously.) 

Helen : Calm yourself, Portia. Don’t be so foolish. You 
know the price I paid for being unreasonable. 

Portia: That was your fault; you had no provocation. 

Helen : But I thought I had, and only realized, when it 
was too late, what a mistake I had made. 

Portia: There is yet time to rectify it. 

Helen : Even if I were dying of love, it would be of no 
use. Oh, you can never realize the sorrow, the bitterness 
I have passed through; the nights of sleepless anguish. 

Portia: A reconciliation would repay you for all of 
these. 

Helen: It seems silly to talk of reconciliation when he 
avoids me completely. Do you know that five years have 
passed since our separation, five long years without a word, 
without the scratch of a pen on which I might build my 
hopes. 

Portia: But you could not really expect him to make 
any overtures when you left him in such a brutal manner. 
Then, a short time later you left New York, and he could 
not have reached you even had he wanted to do so. 

Helen (Nods her head without responding). 

Portia: You were the one at fault and, after all, he is 
but human. 

Helen: Yes, but he could at least have tried to regain 
my love. 


[ 26 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia : Perhaps he feared to be hurt again. 

Helen (Is silent). 

Portia: Have you ever offered him any encouragement? 
You seemed to have built a wall of pride around yourself 
after your separation. 

Helen: Enough! Do not remind me of it. Ah! it all 
comes back (pressing her fingers against her lips), that 
kiss, like a brand — I still feel the sting of it. Like molten 
lava it seems always to sear my soul, my heart. The nights 
of vigil through which my tortured being seemed to wait in 
vain for the dawn; a dawn that might be the herald of a 
happier day. Illusion. One sleepless night followed another, 
one dawn was followed by countless others, still I waited, 
half-frenzied with grief. From my window I would look 
out onto the thoroughfare scanning the face of each pass¬ 
erby, starting at the sound of every footstep that seemed 
to halt before my door, trembling every time the doorbell 
rang. A hundred times during the day I would glance long¬ 
ingly at the telephone, and often I would say to myself: 
'Ah! it is ringing/ and in my excitement I even went so 
far as to take down the receiver, to be met by the buzzing 
of the empty wire. Then I would realize that it was a trick 
of my imagination, and would cry myself sick with dis¬ 
appointment. 

Portia : Poor Helen! To suffer so when a little yielding 
on your part, a little sign from you and everything would 
have been alright. But you would not listen to your own 
heart. 


[ 27 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen : I could not bear to bumble myself. 

Portia: Do you think you would be humbling yourself 
by asking pardon of your own husband? Do you find any¬ 
thing shameful in following the impulse of a heart thirst¬ 
ing for love? I believe it would be, on the contrary, a 
praiseworthy action for in performing it you would have 
assured the happiness of yourself and the one you loved. 

Helen (Sighs). 

Portia: You were suffering, so was he, yet neither of 
you had the courage to face and overcome the demon: 
Pride. It seems unbelievable that you have voluntarily 
bound your love in the chains of stupid pride that should 
have been banished for the sake of your happiness. 

Helen: I confess I have been too proud. 

Portia : Pride is alright in its place, for instance, in one’s 
dealings with the world in general, but when it is permitted 
to come between you and the one you love, it becomes mere 
stupidity. That reminds me of the fable of the members 
of the body who rebelled against the stomach. What was 
the result? They all perished — 

Helen (Smiling): That is true. 

Portia: In other words, ‘you cut off your nose to spite 
your face’. 

Helen: I admit the truth of everything you say, but 
theory does not correspond to fact. 

Portia : Bah! nonsense! After all, what have you 
gained? Pain and unhappiness. What a little fool you have 
been. 


[ 28 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen (Is silent). 

Portia: It is not yet too late to recover what has been 
lost. 

Helen: What would you advise me to do? 

Portia: Just this. Satisfy yourself that Arthur still 
cares for you — but why should I say that when you know 
it to be a certainty? 

Helen: Heaven grant that he does. 

Portia: What makes you doubt it? 

Helen (Passionately): What proof have I that he still 
cares for me? 

Portia: Ninety-nine million proofs. 

Helen: Name them. 

Portia: Do you want me to enumerate them one by one? 

Helen (Smiling): Heavens, no! One alone will be 
sufficient. 

Portia: Very well, here it is: Arthur has never given 
his heart to anyone else. Is that not convincing? 

Helen : How do you know he hasn’t? 

Portia : I know positively that he has not done so. 

Helen: Then all that gossip about his being in love 
withr— 

Portia: All bosh, talk that was made up to hurt your 
feelings. 

Helen: Really? 

Portia : The work of those who envied you. 

[ 29 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen : Then you assure me — 

Portia : That Arthur loves you. 

Helen (Sighs). 

Portia: That you are as dear to him as the light to his 
eyes. You were his inspiration; he owes his fame to you. 

Helen (Goes to Portia and throws her arms impulsively 
about her): Oh! Portia, if it were only so, — how happy 
I should be. 

Portia (Drawing her close): I know it is, I found out 
through Walter. 

Helen: Walter told you? 

Portia : Not exactly. You don’t know how secretive that 
young man is. It would be easier to make a dumb person 
talk than to get a word out of him, unless one knows how. 
If he hides anything from me, I pretend to be very dis¬ 
pleased with him, then he tells me what I want to know, 
to square himself. 

Helen: And you have done all this for me? 

Portia: He has even permitted me to read parts of 
Arthur’s letters — 

Helen (Eagerly): Yes? yes? 

Portia: One of them read: ‘My heart is never at ease. 
My thoughts continue to turn to that creature who was so 
dear to me. The angelic beauty of her face still haunts me, 
and the harder I try to forget her, the stronger my love 
seems to burn — 

Helen (Hangs breathlessly upon her words). 

[ 30 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia : -until it has become a flame that is con¬ 

suming me, enlivening my every thought. The love that I 
feel for her has been a source of inspiration to me. I owe 
everything I have created to her whom I hope to hold in 
my arms once more before I die/ 

Helen (Rugs Portia ecstatically): Oh! Portia, and you 
never told me. How happy I am! How can I ever repay 
you for the pleasure you have brought me ? I feel as though 
I had been born over again. 

Portia: Now you can be calm, I hope. 

Helen : I have the strength now to face anything. 

Portia : Good! Let’s go then and see if we can find him. 

Helen: We will go to Walter’s studio first. 

Portia: Not I. If I step inside of that place I am sure 
I will end up by tearing that monster of a picture to pieces. 

Helen: See how inconsistent you are. Only a moment 
ago it was you who were urging me not to give way to my 
feelings, and here you are doing the thing you advised me 
not to do. 

Portia : There is a great deal of difference between your 
case and mine. You are still the wife of your husband, even 
though you are parted, while I have never been a wife, in¬ 
deed, I am only an aspirant to that place. 

Helen: All the greater reason why you should exercise 
better control of your temper and not be so capricious. 

Portia : One would have to be made of stone not to lose 
their temper with that man. 

[ 31 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen : Don’t you love him ? 

Portia: Oh, surely. 

Helen: Then do not allow yourself to become the vic¬ 
tim of jealousy. 

Portia : It is not jealousy, but natural resentment. 

Helen: Portia dear, let me be an example for you. I 
was — and perhaps I am yet — jealous, and I tell you that 
jealousy is an ugly thing that prompts you, at times, to do 
and say things that border on insanity. 

Portia: I guess I must be insane, then. 

Helen: It hurts me to see you so stubborn, and almost 
brings back my old fears and doubts. 

Portia: There is no cause for comparison between the 
two cases. 

Helen : Bravo! How do you expect me to practice what 
you preach when you place such a bad example before me? 

Portia: Alright then, I will be good and come along, 
but not into the studio. 

Helen : You will change your mind before we get there. 

Portia (Rising): Perhaps. Are you ready to go? 

Helen : It is a little too early, and beside we promised 
to wait for Gloria and Richard. 

Portia: Oh yes! I had forgotten. 

Helen : I think they have arrived, I hear someone com¬ 
ing. (A maid enters.) 

Maid: Miss Miner and Mr. Pratt! (Exits.) (Enter 
Gloria closely followed by Richard.) 

[ 32 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Gloria (Kisses Helen and Portia). 

Richard (Poetically): ‘Quale colombelle dal disio chi- 
amate’— 

Gloria: Richard, for Heaven’s sake leave Dante alone! 
You don’t know what you are talking about. 

Portia: What was wrong with that? 

Gloria: He ruined the whole verse, didn’t he Helen? 

Helen : I don’t know, I can’t remember it very well my¬ 
self. 

Gloria (To Richard): When a person does not under¬ 
stand poetry he should not recite it. 

Richard : There are no poets here to criticise. 

Gloria: It hurts my ears, though. 

Portia : Repeat it correctly, Gloria, so we can see 
Richard’s error. 

Helen: Yes, do! 

Gloria: ‘Quale colombe dal disio chiamate.’ 

Richard: Well, didn’t I say that? 

Gloria : No! 

Richard: The deuce I didn’t. If there had only been a 
recording phonograph handy — 

Gloria: You would have recorded an absurdity. 

Richard : I could kick myself if that wasn’t what I said. 

Gloria : My dear, you said ‘Colombelle’ instead of 
‘colombe’. 

Richard: What difference does a little thing like that 
make? 


[331 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Gloria: Oh! doesn’t? It only adds another foot to the 
verse and completely ruins its beauty. 

Portia: Gloria is right. 

Helen : Absolutely! 

Richard: Oh well, Dante meant adult doves; I meant 
the little baby ones. 

Helen and Portia: Ha-ha-ha! 

Gloria : I think it stupid to laugh at anything like that. 

Richard : I can answer you with another verse of Dante: 
Amor che al suo amato perdona.’ 

Portia: Don’t be angry with him, Gloria, can’t you see 
he is only joking? 

Gloria : I don’t like to see him act like a clown, especially 
when he feels that he must recite verses, particularly those 
of Dante. 

Helen: But there are no strangers present. 

Richard (Unchastened): I will not speak of ‘Things of 
which silence is better.’ 

Gloria (Exasperated): Another one! 

Richard: Is there something wrong with that one, too? 

Gloria: There certainly is. 

Portia : He remembers what he reads, at least. 

Helen: While I can’t remember a thing. 

Gloria : It is better not to learn anything than to learn 
it badly. 

Richard: Oh, Gloria, ‘Much ado about nothing.’ 

[ 34 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia: You said it! 

Helen: Fine, Richard! You certainly have a memory. 

Gloria: At least when he sticks to English he doesn’t 
cut such a ridiculous figure as he does when he attempts to 
recite in Italian. 

Richard : Phew! I call it a struggle for life. 

Helen: Exactly! 

Richard: And freedom! 

Gloria (Angrily): You can be free whenever you wish it. 

Richard: There! I knew it! 

Helen (To Gloria): You know you are not in earnest. 

Portia: Lover’s quarrels vanish like smoke before the 
wind. 

Richard: Don’t be angry, Gloria. 

Gloria: Go away! 

Helen: Come on, now, kiss and make up. 

Richard (Drawing closer to Gloria): Not one but a 
thousand. 

Gloria : Go ’way, I said. 

Portia: We won’t look. Hurry up! 

Richard (Blows a kiss to Gloria, kissing the back of his 
hand noisily): It’s done. Ah! 

Portia: Good! Did you really do it? 

Richard : Certainly! 

Helen: Hurry on, it is getting late, and if we intend 
to go out we had better be starting. 

[ 35 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Richard: That’s what I say, it’s a shame to stay in on 
a morning like this, (looking at Gloria) what does my 
little one say? 

Gloria: Your little one says that if you don’t quit act¬ 
ing like a clown you can stay at home. 

Richard: Very well, I will be as sober as the sphinx, 
I won’t say a word even if a pumpkin should fall on my 
head. 

Gloria : You will have two then, with the empty one you 
already have. 

Richard: Don’t say that. It is true that there is not 
very much in here (tapping his head) but still there must 
be something, it feels so heavy. 

Gloria (Meaningly): Lead, perhaps. 

Portia: Gloria, don’t be so severe with Richard. 

Helen: Remember he is your fiance. 

Richard (Aside, knocking on the side of his head): 
Lead? No, I don’t think so. 

Gloria (To Bichard): What are you doing? 

Richard : I wanted to find out if what you said was true, 
and I think you are mistaken. 

Gloria: Why? 

Richard: For this reason: Lead is a heavy mineral, a 
poor conductor of heat, also of sound; now, if I knock like 
this on one side, I can hear the noise on the other, which 
shows that it is not lead. 

Helen and Portia (Laughing): Ha-ha-ha! 

[ 36 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Richard (Without smiling): And it can’t be a pumpkin 
because there are no seeds in it, and if there were, they 
would be seeds of wisdom. 

Gloria: Yes, the wisdom of a fool. 

Portia: You two are certainly amusing. Come on, it is 
time to go. 

Gloria (To Richard): Try to act as if you had a little 
sense and don’t embarrass me. 

Richard: As you like it. 

Gloria: Where are we bound for? 

Helen: Naples. 

Gloria : Splendid! 

Richard: Tres bien, tres bien! (They go out laughing 
merrily.) 

( Curtain.) 


[ 37 ] 


Act IV 


The afternoon of the same day. Walter Davis’ studio in 
Naples. Everything in disorder, with canvases, statuettes, 
busts, palettes and brushes scattered in every corner. 

The portrait of a very beautiful woman rests upon an 
easel near the right-front of the scene. 

A door at the left and one at the right. At the rise of 
the curtain Walter is standing before the portrait adding 
the finishing touches. He stops from time to time as though 
preoccupied. 

Walter (Plying the brush): There! (Addressing the 
portrait.) How much trouble you have caused me! (He 
lays aside the palette, and seems lost in reflection.) Portia 
is wild with jealousy and creates a scene whenever she finds 
the opportunity. She is petulant and hard to please — 
(smiling) but so beautiful, even when she is furiously angry 
at me; a most fascinating ‘Fury’. At times she seems the 
very spirit of Beauty and I can hardly restrain the desire 
to crush her in my arms and cover her soft lips with kisses. 
She has a temperament like that of the sea that is beau¬ 
tiful and alluring when calm, filling the mariner with a 
consuming desire to navigate it, but, when the tempest 
rides it, the foaming waves rise mountain-high with seeth¬ 
ing whirlpools between them that engulf the unfortunate 
mariner and drag him down to oblivion. When Portia is in 
the grip of jealousy she is just as untamable as the waves, 

[ 38 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


still, I cannot overcome my passion for her, and, good or 
bad, I have made my choice. Like the mariner I shall navi¬ 
gate the uncharted seas of love, and if the whirlpool draws 
me under — I am willing to risk it. (The door at the left 
opens and Arthur enters.) 

Arthur: Walter! (He crosses the room and grips Wal¬ 
ter’s hand.) You seem worried, has anything happened? 

Walter: Nothing has happened; I was busy thinking. 

Arthur: By the expression of your face I imagine you 
must have been thinking of a shipwreck as a subject for a 
canvas. 

W alter : No, no! 

Arthur: I can’t remember that I have ever seen you 
so gloomy in all the time I have known you. 

Walter: I have been a little nervous lately, that is all. 

Arthur: A quarrel with Portia, I’ll wager. 

Walter: Well, you could not exactly call it a quarrel, 
but something very close to it. 

Arthur: Some woman is always at the bottom of our 
troubles. 

Walter: And our pleasures, also. 

Arthur : That’s true. 

Walter: And a sensible man will accept the bitter as 
well as the sweet. 

Arthur: Spoken like a sage, although you must admit 
that we accept the latter with much more enjoyment than 
the former. 


[ 39 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter: Of course; who would wish misfortune upon 
his own head. 

Arthur: Why worry, then? Would it be out of place 
to ask what the trouble is? 

Walter : Just this: Portia is jealous. 

Arthur: A common failing of her sex. 

Walter: In fact, she is the personification of jealousy. 

Arthur: Perhaps you have given her cause. 

Walter: No, Arthur, I haven’t. 

Arthur: What is the reason, then? 

Walter (Indicating the portrait on the easel): Do you 
see that portrait? It is of the Countess Ghigioni. She will 
be here very shortly. 

Arthur: But — I don’t understand. 

Walter: Very well, I shall explain. The Countess, ac¬ 
cording to the agreement between us, will pay me ten thou¬ 
sand dollars for this portrait as soon as it is completed. 

Arthur (Astonished): Phew! lucky devil! 

Walter: Do you think that’s too much? 

Arthur: Well, no, not for the work of a painter as well- 
known as you are. But, I can’t see what connection the 
portrait has with Portia’s jealousy; the fact that you are 
to be so well paid for it should please her. 

Walter: Ah! that is what puzzles you, eh? Portia is 
not jealous of the picture. 

Arthur: Of what, then?. 

[ 40 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter: Nothing easier to understand; of the Countess 
herself. 

Arthur: But you must have given her some cause to be 
jealous. 

Walter (Frowning): No, I haven’t. 

Arthur: Perhaps she has surprised you, at some time, 
with the original — 

Walter: There has been nothing between the Countess 
and myself to warrant such a suspicion. I have devoted 
more than ordinary care to this painting because I am seek¬ 
ing to establish myself and build a reputation here in Italy, 
the seat of all the recognized arts. Portia had never seen 
me so enthusiastic over any other work, and, in the be¬ 
ginning, bantered me over the length of time consumed in 
finishing the portrait, then, little by little, the suspicion 
grew upon her that I might be falling in love with the 
original. That is the whole thing in a nutshell. 

Arthur: If that is all that is causing the trouble, finish 
the picture and get it out of the way as quickly as possible. 
That will put an end to Portia’s jealousy. 

Walter: It is finished. The Countess is coming today 
to see it, and tomorrow, when it is completely dry, I shall 
deliver it to her home. 

Arthur: Good! 

Walter: Now, let’s talk about ourselves. Where in the 
devil did you disappear to last night? I waited in the 
‘Galleria Umberto Primo’ until two o’clock, and you didn’t 
show up. 


[ 41 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur (Earnestly): It seems that you didn’t under¬ 
stand the appointment I made with you. 

Walter: I certainly did! 

Arthur: Why didn’t you come as I told you? 

Walter: Good Lord, I did. 

Arthur: Yes, but how did you come? 

Walter: With my feet, of course! 

Arthur: Yes, with your feet, and several other pairs 
of feet in the bargain. I expected to see a bi-ped, not a 
centiped. 

Walter: You were there, then? 

Arthur : Certainly I was, but, as you saw fit to come 
with so many feet and a dozen heads, I faded from view. 

Walter: Oh! why did you do that? They were all per¬ 
sons well known to you and very anxious to see you. 

Arthur: All? 


Walter: Yes, all. 

Arthur: I had no wish to see anyone but you, to pass 
a few hours in your company, without being annoyed by 
so much chatter, that I detest. You, on your part, took the 
liberty of bringing along a battalion, without asking my 
permission. A fine thing, to keep an appointment accom¬ 
panied by a regiment. 

Walter: Easy there! From a battalion you pass to a 
regiment; the next thing I know you will increase it to an 
army, when there were, in fact, only eight little persons. 

Arthur: Whether they were eight or a thousand, it 


[ 42 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


meant the same thing to me, and I didn’t care to see them. 

Walter: But I could not get away from them. I tried 
to find some excuse, but they insisted upon coming along, 
so I had to satisfy them. 

Arthur: Them? I am sure there was one who had no 
desire to see me, or to be seen by me. 

Walter: There you are mistaken. 

Arthur (Interested): What? 

Walter: I assure you that the person you think the 
least anxious to see you was, perhaps the most anxious of 
all. 

Arthur: What do you mean? 

Walter: If you had known the truth, you would have 
wished the earth to open and swallow the entire regiment, 
with the exception of that one. 

Arthur ( Gazes at the floor and says nothing). 

Walter : I, as the general of that regiment, had laid my 
plans and properly disposed of my troops. Lucky for you 
that you had concealed yourself, otherwise — 

Arthur: Leaving all joking aside, did she really wish 
to see me? 

Walter (Assuming an air of satisfied importance): Now 
you are trying to discover the general’s plans. 

Arthur (Sharply): Walter! don’t joke with me unless 
you are only taking me for a fool. 

Walter (Sobering): You know that is not so! 

Arthur: Then tell me all about it, you know that you 
[ 43 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


are only tormenting me, and feeding the fire of curiosity. 

Walter (Smiling): Oh, the fire is started, eh? What 
do you want to know first? 

Arthur: You said a while ago that the girls insisted on 
accompanying you. 

Walter: That is exactly what I said. 

Arthur: And they knew you had an appointment with 
me? 

Walter : Certainly. 

Arthur: How did they learn I was in Naples? 

Walter: Probably read it in the newspaper; then, no 
doubt Richard told them. 

Arthur: Helen knew it also? 

Walter: Of course! 

Arthur: And she came along of her own free will? 

Walter: You don’t think I used force, do you? 

Arthur: Perhaps she was prompted by curiosity? 

Walter: No, by an overpowering desire to see you. 

Arthur: Then she — 

Walter: Still loves you. 

(Arthur appears pleased.) 

Walter: Haven’t I told you often, in my letters, that 
suffering has completely changed her? She has been long¬ 
ing to see you, hoping that you might write her a line. 

Arthur (Bows his head). 

Walter: For some time now, she has been living a re- 
[ 44 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


tired life, resigned to her fate. She has been very unhappy. 

Arthur: Unhappiness of her own making. 

Walter : But she has fully expiated her sin, and if you 
have any generosity in your makeup you should forgive her. 

Arthur: No, I can’t do it. 

Walter: Why? 

Arthur (Does not reply). 

Walter: Why? You are free — and I know you still 
love her. 

Arthur (Feelingly): Yes, I do love her, more than any¬ 
thing else in the world. Even the Work I have chosen has 
not taken her place, and I have often wished that I had 
never taken up a literary life. I have often envied the 
poorest and humblest farmhand, who, in his ignorance, has 
been able to find more happiness in life than I have. Isn’t 
it true that happiness is found more frequently among the 
poor and ignorant than among those of our class? The 
farmhand tills the soil contentedly all day long, far from 
the noise, the glamor and the vices of the city; at eve he 
trudges placidly home to be welcomed at the door by the 
smiling face of his mate. They sit down to their frugal 
meal, perhaps surrounded by small, beaming faces. After 
the meal is finished, they exchange some little confidences, 
tell a few tales, then retire to a well-earned rest, ignorant 
of the evil of the outside world. What interest have they 
in philosophy, in art? The thing that counts most is that 
they are far removed from intrigue, from the malice of 
trouble-makers; the petty jealousies of society does not 

[ 45 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


touch them, while we, who have devoted so much time to the 
development of our intellects, to self-refinement, are so 
filled with discontent that it seems as though we carry Hell 
around with us. Greedy for new sensations, new pleasures, 
we rush blindly into the Unknown. 

Walter: Too true! 

Arthur : If, as it rarely happens, our hearts are touched 
by some beautiful sentiment and we abandon ourselves to 
the ecstacy of it, it cannot last; some evil genius is bound 
to seize us and cast us back into the abyss. 

Walter: You are right. 

Arthur: My dear friend, Heaven has cheated us of one 
of the gifts most common to the lower classes: tranquillity. 

Walter (Nods his head slowly). 

Arthur : Take me, for instance. It was my fate to meet 
and fall violently in love with a certain girl. My love was, 
to all appearances, returned, and I was the happiest man 
on earth. I married her and, for a time, lived in the joy 
that only a true and holy love could bring. With her at my 
side, I was perfectly contented, and threw myself body 
and soul into my studies, the only other passion of my 
life. With my beloved as my inspiration, I sought to per¬ 
fect myself, to create something that would make me worthy 
of her love, to erect an eternal tribute to her beauty and 
make her the envy of every other woman. 

Walter: I know, I know! 

Arthur: She could inspire me to the most exalted 
heights, (he stops, an expression of pain contracts his fore - 

[ 46 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


head) and while I pored over my books and covered reams 
of paper with my thoughts, she was out pursuing the empty 
pleasures of the world. I could stand it no longer, and one 
evening, tortured by my own thoughts, I felt my heart 
weighted by remorse, and realized with regret that I had 
fallen into a rut. I saw the abyss yawning before me. 
Picking up a copy of Wilde’s poems, I opened it at ran¬ 
dom and read: 

“And all men kill the thing they love, 

By all let this be heard, 

Some do it with a bitter look, 

Some with a flattering word.” 

Oh! I realized that I was destroying my own happiness, 
had trampled upon love in my insane passion for my work. 
I recognized the fault as my own. 

Walter: Calm yourself, Arthur. 

Arthur (Seems not to hear him): So I waited for her; 
I wanted to tell her that I was willing to let her drag me 
down into the mud after her. 

Walter: Arthur! 

Arthur: I was ready to follow where she led. She 
came — she sneered at my passion for study which she 
called stupid, said that she didn’t care to be a prisoner any 
longer, that she wanted to enjoy life — those words were 
dagger-thrusts in my heart. Blinded by jealousy and des¬ 
peration, and goaded by her insolence that wounded me 
to the quick, the finishing verse of Wilde’s 

“The coward does it with a kiss, 

The brave man with a sword” 


[ 47 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


beat insistently on my brain, and I told her she was free, 
free to lead her own life as she wished, but, before per¬ 
mitting her to go I had resolved to brand myself as a 
coward, for, as I had no sword, I could not play the part 
of the brave man and did not care to strangle her like 
an Othello. So, on those unwilling lips I placed the brand 
of the coward. I wanted to crucify and destroy my love 
with that kiss, and place upon her soul the seal of eternal 
remorse. (Exhausted with this outburst, he sinks wearily 
into a chair, holding his head between his hands. For a 
minute there is complete silence, broken only by the labored 
breathing of Arthur.) 

Walter (Rises and touches him lightly upon the shoul¬ 
der): Brace up old man! Don’t give up to despair. You 
are torturing yourself when a word, a sign from you 
would — 

Arthur (Raising his head): My suffering has been 
greater than hers. 

Walter: There is no need to suffer any longer. Helen 
will return to you if you ask her. 

Arthur: You are asking me to humiliate myself? 

Walter: No, I am not. 

Arthur: She deserted me — 

Walter: The past is buried. You love one another, why 
not let bygones be bygones? 

Arthur: No, I can’t do that! 

Walter: By Heaven, you should be reconciled, you can¬ 
not go on all your life like this. Helen is coming — 

[ 48 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur (Starts). 

Walter: —here today,— so she promised last night — 
and if you will permit me, I will arrange a meeting between 
you in a way that will spare both your dignity and hers. 

Arthur: That is impossible. 

Walter : Oh no, it isn’t. 

Arthur: Without a previous understanding? 

Walter: Why should there be an understanding? It’s 
as clear as day that both of you are seeking one another. 

Arthur: But — 

Walter: Arthur, you know the position you hold in my 
esteem; I have at heart your happiness, and have been only 
waiting for the opportunity to show you the proofs of my 
friendship. 

Arthur: Thanks, dear friend, but not yet. 

Walter : Leave this to me. The time is ripe. I have been 
a little doubtful about you, but now I am surer than ever 
that there is no necessity of delaying any longer. I am sure 
you will be happy together. This separation has been a 
lesson to Helen, and I would stake my claim to your friend¬ 
ship that some day you will bless it, for it has opened the 
eyes of your minds and hearts and has made you a thou¬ 
sand times worthier of each other. 

Arthur: Thank you. 

Walter: She was to blame, I admit, but she has paid 
for her error, so you should be broad-minded and break 
down the barriers that are keeping you apart. Open your 
heart to love, my friend. 


[ 49 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur: I will follow your counsel, but I want a little 
more time. 

Walter: How much? 

Arthur: You know that I am just finishing my latest 
play that is to be given in New York at the opening of the 
season. Much as I desire to make up with Helen, it would 
be a mistake for me to do so at present. Perhaps in my 
happiness I should neglect my duty, I must have quiet to 
concentrate my mind, and then — 

Walter: Then? 

Arthur: You will have more time to study Helen’s 
thoughts on the subject, to prepare her. 

Walter: Then you promise? 

Arthur: Here is my hand on it. I am sincere about it. 
Act as you think proper, and I will follow the rules laid 
down by you to the letter. 

Walter (Impulsively embraces his friend): May the 
Lord bless Italy, the beautiful land that has taught us the 
meaning of love and friendship, if nothing more. An em¬ 
brace between us would have seemed ridiculous in America, 
because over there we are ashamed of our emotions; we 
don’t feel the spontaniety of affection that is so common 
to those of the Latin races. Over here there is more respect 
between individuals, and more sympathy in both the sor¬ 
rows and the joys that are common to life. 

Arthur: Good, that sounds like philosophy. I must go 
now, it is getting late. Remember, I await your sentence. 

Walter: It will condemn you to everlasting happiness. 

[ 50 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur : Good-bye. 

Walter (Shaking hands with him): Au revoir! (He 
accompanies Arthur to the door then returns to his chair.) 
Uf£! I have taken a great weight from my shoulders. The 
only thing left now is to hear what Helen has to say, then 
all will end in “Gloria,” that is, as far as they are con¬ 
cerned, but what about myself? Portia is anything but easy 
to handle, and I can smell a storm brewing. In anything 
concerning her I am a living barometer. (Women’s voices 
are heard outside the door.) Here they come — I am ready 
for them. (Helen and Gloria enter.) 

Helen : Here we are! 

Walter : And most welcome. 

Gloria: Are you alone? 

Walter: Yes! I have been working. 

Helen: Without a palette? 

Walter: I laid it aside a moment ago, to rest. 

Gloria (Approaching the portrait of the Countess): 
Wonderful! 

Walter: Thank you! (To Helen.) And Portia? 

Helen : She has gone to the jewelers with Richard. 

Walter: Is she still angry with me? 

Helen : Oh no, I have had a good talk with her. 

Gloria (Walks about, inspecting the paintings). 

Walter: Why did she not come, then? 

Helen: We are going for her now. 

Walter (Dissatisfied): Very well! 

[ 51 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen: Any news? 

Walter (Draws her aside): Helen, I must have a serious 
talk with you and would like to see you alone this evening 
or tomorrow. 

Helen (Apprehensive): What about? anything — 

Walter: About Arthur. 

Helen (Anxiously): Have you seen him? 

Walter: He just left. 

Helen: What? 

Walter : If you had come five minutes sooner you would 
have surprised him. 

Helen (Biting her lip): Strange we did not meet him 
on the stairs? 

Walter: He must have gone out thru the other door. 

Helen: What did he tell you? 

Walter: Many things. 

Helen: Did he speak of me? 

Walter: Of you, of me, of everyone. 

Helen : He must have spoken of unpleasant things 
judging by your thoughtful expression. 

Walter: I assure you that you are mistaken. On the 
contrary, you would be pleased if you knew the result of 
our conversation. 

Helen: Oh! (Hopefully.) Then I may have the oppor¬ 
tunity to see him? 

Walter: See him and, perhaps, speak with him. 

[ 52 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen (Excitedly): When? 

Walter: Not so fast! I told you I wanted to have a 
private talk with you, did I not? 

Helen: True, but I am so curious. 

Walter : You would do well to curb your curiosity a bit. 

Helen : Very well! Fll expect you this evening? 

Walter: Yes! But please — not a word about it. 

Gloria (Still at a little distance from Helen and Walter): 
I like this one very much. 

Helen: Come Gloria, it’s time to call for Portia, we’ll 
come back later. 

Gloria : I’m ready. 

Walter (To Helen): I may depend upon you? 

Helen: Yes! (Exit Helen and Gloria.) 

Walter: Helen is too impatient. But, of course, that is 
natural. (A tap on the door is followed by the appearance 
of the Countess.) 

Countess: Mr. Davis! 

Walter: Countess! (He goes to meet her and bows cere¬ 
moniously. The Countess offers her hand which he raises 
to his lips.) 

Countess: The portrait? 

Walter: Finished! Here it is. 

Countess: Bravo! 

Walter: Do you like it? 

Countess: So much! Splendid! 

[ 53 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter: Thanks! 

Countess : I predict fame for you. 

Walter: I am doing my best to attain it. 

Countess: You are very devoted to your work and have 
most unusual talent. Your portraits are warm, almost life¬ 
like. 

Walter (Slightly embarassed): You are too kind. I do 
not merit such praise. 

Countess (Wagging a finger at him): Rascal! don’t be 
too modest. Paying compliments is not a habit with me and 
whenever I do so you can be sure it is done in perfect sin¬ 
cerity. 

Walter: You are very generous. 

Countess (Admiring the painting from all sides): Genius 
will show itself. 

Walter (Is silent). 

Countess: And there is no denying that you have it. 
You have a brilliant future and America will have just 
reason to be proud of you. 

Walter: I am not hoping for too much. 

Countess: During the sittings I observed the self-con¬ 
fidence with which you performed your work, then, your 
temperament is very serious and calm, one of the greatest 
assets for one who intends to follow this noble and interest¬ 
ing calling. 

Walter: My temperament has been always that. 

Countess: Very good, and I congratulate you upon it. 

[ 54 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


I am giving a reception at my home next Wednesday and 
it would please me very much to have you attend. It would 
give me great satisfaction to be able to introduce you to 
my friends. 

Walter : I don’t know how to repay your kindness. 

Countess: Your friendship is sufficient; I shall be glad 
to have you call on me whenever you can find the oppor¬ 
tunity. (Looks at her watch.) I must be going. I will have 
someone call for the portrait tomorrow, and, remember — 
I depend on you for Wednesday. (She gives Walter her 
hand and he hows and kisses it.) 

(Enter Portia, Helen, Gloria and Richard.) 

Portia (In the lead, enters just in time to see Walter in 
the act of kissing the Countess’ hand. She can hardly con¬ 
trol herself). 

Countess : So many visitors ? I believe you are already 
famous. 

Walter: Countess, allow me to present Miss Portia 
Parke. 

Portia (Acknowledges the introduction with poorly con¬ 
cealed indifference). 

Walter (Introducing Helen): Mrs. Arthur Grant. 

Countess: Ah! Mrs. Grant! Wife of the poet? 

Helen (Confused): Yes. 

Countess (Taking Helen’s hand): I congratulate you, 
my dear. Grant is a poet of exceptional qualities. I have 
read his ‘Love Idylls’ and enjoyed them immensely. 

Helen: Thank you! 


[ 55 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter: Miss Gloria Miner. 

Countess: Very charming! 

Gloria (Blushing): Thanks. 

Walter: And Mr. Richard Pratt. 

Richard (Bows bashfully). 

Countess: A handsome group of ‘Yankees’. America 
must be a beautiful country. 

Richard: Less beautiful than Italy. 

Countess: You are a lover of Italy? 

Richard : Indeed I am — 1 the 

“bel paese ch’Appenini e il mare — bagna.” 

Countess (Laughing): Ha-ha-ha — a slight error there. 

“II bel paese 

CH’Appennin parte e ’1 mar circonda e l’Alpe.” 
They are verses of Petrarch. You also are a poet? 

Richard: No, Countess, but I am at heart. (The rest 
laugh at that.) 

Countess: That is very good. You impress me as being 
a pleasant chap. 

Portia (Is becoming impatient). 

Richard : Thank you. 

Gloria (Aside): He is making a fool of himself. 

Countess: I admire your geniality. (Turns and bows 
to the rest.) I hope you enjoy your stay in Italy. Good¬ 
bye. (She goes toward the door at the right, accompanied 
by Walter; before passing out she again offers her hand 
and, in a slightly lowered tone): Till Wednesday. 

[ 56 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Walter (Bows). 


(The Countess exits.) 

Gloria (Stands beside Richard and, a# the door closes 
after the Countess, she turns angrily upon him): Shame¬ 
less! You clown! You idiot! (She shakes her finger under 
his nose.) 

Richard (Dodges, looking for a chance to speak). 

Gloria: Shut up! You ought to be ashamed of your¬ 
self. 

Richard: But-what have I done, now? 


(While the dialogue goes on between Gloria and Richard 
on one side of the scene, on the other side Portia, wild with 


jealousy, turns on Walter): 

Gloria: What a beastly 
thing to say! 

Richard: I only wanted 
to say something nice about 
Italy. 

Gloria: By trying to re¬ 
cite verses that you had so 
mutilated as to make them 
unrecognizable. 

Richard: But I tried to 
do the best I could. 

Gloria : Clown! 

Richard (Trying to quiet 
her): Please — Gloria — 

Gloria : Go ’way. I never 


Portia : What did she say 
to you? 

Walter : She was only 
speaking of the portrait. 

Portia: That is a lie! I 
heard you make an appoint¬ 
ment with her. 

Walter: In regard to 
the picture. 

Helen (Trying to pacify 
Portia): Portia, please calm 
yourself. 

Portia: The portrait! As 
tho’ I didn’t notice the 
smiles, the looks and the 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


care to see your face again. 

Richard: Would you be 
so cruel? 

Gloria : Go! 

Richard: You know bow 
much I love you, Gloria. 

Gloria: How many times 
have I told you not to try 
to recite verses? 

Richard: M never do it 
again. 

Gloria : An unnecessary 
promise. 

Richard: Gloria! 

Gloria : Stupid! Go! 

Richard : Why make such 
a fuss over a trifle? 

Gloria (Clasps her hands 
over her ears): Go ’way, I 
don’t care to hear any more. 

Richard (Confused by the 
shrieking of Portia and 
Gloria, seeks refuge behind 
a divan, peeking comically 
over the back of it). 


compliments that passed be¬ 
tween you. (Sarcastically.) 
May we soon have the honor 
of calling you ‘Sir Count’? 

Walter : For God’s sake! 
Portia! 

Helen: You are accus¬ 
ing Walter unjustly. 

Portia: He is false, has 
been making a fool of me. 
(To Walter): If you care 
so much for the Countess, 
why lose time with me? 

Walter (Is speechless). 

Helen: Portia! for pity’s 
sake! 

Portia: No wonder you 
were so interested in that 
portrait. 

Walter : I wished the pic¬ 
ture to be perfect as I want¬ 
ed it to be the foundation of 
my success in Italy. 

Portia : Oh yes, I believe 
that. (She goes up to the 
picture, followed by Wal¬ 
ter.) How beautiful it is! 


[ 58 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Those eyes, that nose, that 
lovely mouth! 

Portia (She spies a paper 
knife on the table and , be¬ 
fore Helen can prevent her, 
she seizes it, rushes to the 
portrait and slashes wildly 
at it): Ha-ha-ha — look at 
the masterpiece. Isn’t it 
beautiful? (Realizing what 
she has done, her laughter 
changes to a sob and the 
knife falls from her fingers.) 

Walter (Raises his arms 
in horror, then, in despair, 
throws himself upon the 
sofa): Oh! Portia! 

(They remain as tho’ petrified while the curtain falls 
rapidly.) 


[ 59 ] 


Act V 


The magnificent ballroom of Alice Franklin’s New York 
home. 

The decorations include immense flower-filled vases, stat¬ 
uary, etc . The furniture consists of cushioned chairs and 
divans placed here and there. 

At the center-back a wide stairway ascends to the floor 
above. There are no doors as the walls consist of columns 
that rise from floor to ceiling. 

At the left-front is a davenport. At the right-front two 
armchairs. 

As the curtain rises the guests are dancing. After a 
moment they clear the center of the stage and group them¬ 
selves at the sides as the ballet dancers enter. 

(They execute the first number, then exit.) 

Alice (Passes among the guests, exchanging a word now 
and then with a friend). 

(Enter Annette.) 

Alice: I am so glad you have come, Annette. You look 
wonderful this evening. 

Annette : Thanks! I return the compliment, you are 
simply stunning. 

Alice: Have you seen Dana? 

Annette: No, is she here? 

Alice: Yes. 


[601 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Annette: Good! And Portia? 

Alice: She promised to come. So did Helen and Gloria. 

Annette: Do yon think they will keep their promise? 

Alice : Certainly. 

Annette: Does Portia know that Walter is to be 
present? 

Alice: Yes, she knows all about it and is glad of the 
opportunity to see him again. 

Annette: Have they never met since that unfortunate 
incident at Naples? 

Alice : No, not once. 

Annette : Portia has had plenty of time to repent of her 
action, hasn’t she? 

Alice : My dear, the results of letting ones self be domi¬ 
nated by anger are bound to be painful. Fortunately for 
her, Walter is of a generous and forgiving nature. 

Annette : And I believe he still loves her dearly. 

Alice: At any rate, it is better for things of that kind 
to happen before, rather than after marriage. 

Annette: As in the case of the Grants. 

Alice : Helen has suffered for her error. 

Annette: I am sorry for both of them, still they could 
not appreciate their good fortune until they had lost it. 
Oh! if I had had the luck to meet a man who loved me sin¬ 
cerely, I am sure I would have used more consideration 
toward him. 


[ 61 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Alice: Love is a dangerous thing to play with. It is 
bound to bring sorrow sooner or later. 

Annette: Does Arthur know that Helen will be here? 

Alice: Yes, this reception in his honor, is but a pretext 
to bring them together. 

Annette: What a wonderful success he has made with 
this last play of his! 

Alice: Marvelous! Helen attended the first perform¬ 
ance and simply wept for joy. 

Annette : I spoke with Arthur after it was over and he 
was trembling with emotion. 

Alice: I want you to help me bring him and Helen 
together. 

Annette: Tell me what you want me to do. 

Alice: Just keep an eye on Arthur, Walter and Richard. 

Annette: Poor Richard, the chains of love are as badly 
tangled for him as for the rest of them. 

Alice: Richard is nothing but an overgrown baby and 
Gloria has taken advantage of the fact. 

Annette: The little Tyrant! Here she comes. 

Annette and Alice: Gloria! Gloria! 

Gloria (Enters the scene at the right-center and runs 
gaily to meet them; they both hug her at the same time). 

Gloria: Oh, my dears! 

Annette: Did you come alone? 

Glorl\ : No, Dad and Mother are with me. 

Annette: No one else? 


[ 62 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Gloria (Sighing): No one else. 

Alice (Winks meaningly at Annette who nods back at 
her). 

Annette: Come along, Gloria. 

Gloria : Where ? 

Annette (Taking her by the arm): You shall soon find 
out. 

Alice ( J.s they withdraw): She is out of the way; now, 
to work. 

The Butler Announces: Mr. Walter Davis! 

Walter (Enters and approaches Alice): Well, here I 
am, Alice! 

Alice: Good! I was afraid you were going to disap¬ 
point me. (She spies Portia, who has just entered at the 
right-back, accompanied by a gentleman.) (To Walter): 
Look! 

Walter: She! Here! 

Alice: Do you think she could stay away? 

Walter (Offers his arm to Alice): They are coming this 
way. Let’s get away from here. 

Alice : As you wish. (They pass to the other side of the 
room. Portia watches Walter from the tail of her eye, but 
he pretends not to notice her.) (Portia’s companion escorts 
her to the davenport at the left-front of the scene and she 
sinks wearily into its cushioned depths.) 

Portia: Forgive me, but I am so tired; I would like to 
be alone for a moment. 

Companion: Are you ill? 

[ 63 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia: No, only tired. Please go! (He bows and leaves 
her.) 

Portia: Oh! what a bore! (Her eyes seek Alice and 
Walter who are hidden from sight by other guests.) My 
God! It was he, and he must have seen me. I feel as tho 
I could hardly breathe. (She throws her head back against 
the cushions.) 

(The orchestra begins the Prelude from ( 1 Pagliacci > and 
Portia stiffens at the first note, then smiles musingly, ab¬ 
sorbed in her memories. At a certain syncopated passage 
she starts): 

Portia: Like my own heart. How it seems to pound 
against my breast. (She relaxes as the orchestra takes up 
the air of the duet.) What melody! Ah! the memories it 
awakens. (She listens attentively while the orchestra plays 
‘Canio’s Lament / and at the closing notes she springs sud¬ 
denly to her feet.) No! my love is not crushed! 

(The music ceases. Enter Helen.) 

Helen (Approaching Portia): Portia, where are you 
going? 

Portia: I don’t know. That music has awakened many 
sleeping memories. 

Helen : It has had the same effect on me. This evening 
is the test of fire. 

Portia: Of life or death. 

Helen: Life, by all means. (The orchestra plays waits 
music and the guests dance.) 

Butler: Mr. Arthur Grant! 

[ 64 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Helen : I feel ill. (The orchestra plays the “Triumphal 
March” from Aida.) (Grant enters and is greeted by a 
round of applause.) 

Alice (Goes to welcome Arthur, who offers his arm, and 
together they advance toward the front of the scene). 

(Helen and Portia lose themselves among the other guests, 
stealing a glance now and then at the group formed by 
Alice, Arthur, and Walter, who has hastened forward to 
shake hands with his friend. Helen’s eyes meet those of 
Arthur for an instant, then she reddens and turns away. 
Portia places her arm around Helen. She knows Walter has 
seen her, and as her eyes meet his she turns her back upon 
him. The lights go out, to be replaced by the vari-colored 
glow of the spotlight played over the ballet. As the dancers 
enter, the guests group themselves at the sides of the scene 
as in the beginning of the act, leaving the center-stage clear.) 

Note: While the dancing goes on at center-stage, the 
action of the scene continues independent of the general 
action. 

(Alice, Walter , and Arthur cross the room and watch 
the dances from a point near the stairway. Portia and 
Helen seat themselves at the right-front of the scene.) 

Portia: I am glad the dances are on; it gives us the 
opportunity to rest for a moment, alone. (Dana enters and 
comes to join them.) 

Dana: What are you doing here in a comer by your¬ 
selves. 

Helen : There is so much confusion and I feel faint. 

Portia (To Dana): Have you seen here very long? 

Dana: Yes, I arrived early. 

[ 65 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Portia: Alone? 

Dana: No, I managed to drag Richard along, although, 
to tell the truth, he wasn’t very anxious to come. 

Helen: Where is he? 

Dana : The last time I saw him he was talking with Alice 
and Walter. 

Helen: Has Gloria seen him yet? 

Dana : I don’t think so. Here she comes; you might ask 
her. (Gloria enters and joins them.) 

Gloria : Oh! how hot it is in here! 

Dana: Are you sure nothing beside the heat has affected 
you? 

Gloria: What do you mean? (Annette joins the group 
near the stairway, and after a moment she and Walter come 
toward the four at the right-front of the scene.) 

Portia (At the approach of Annette and Walter takes 
Gloria and Dana by the arm): Let’s go before they reach 
us. (She rushes them off the scene, paying no heed to their 
protests.) (Walter and Annette stop before Helen.) 

Walter : You don’t seem to be enjoying yourself, Helen. 
Why keep away from the rest? 

Helen : Because it pleases me to be alone. 

Annette (Aside to Walter): I am going to hunt Arthur 
and Richard. Wait for me here. 

Walter: There must be something in the air! 

Helen: Sit down here Walter and tell me what arrange¬ 
ments have been made for the presentation. 

Walter: Very well! They are exactly as we had de- 

[ 66 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


eided they should be, and remember, do your part as you 
promised. 

Helen (Sighs): I am so nervous. 

Walter : Brace up, there is nothing to be nervous about. 

Helen: If I do this, I want you to promise that you 
will also forgive Portia. 

Walter: I have forgiven her long ago, but she still 
avoids me. 

Helen : Only because she is ashamed to face you. She 
is so sorry for what she did. She realizes what a terrible 
mistake she made. 

Walter : Let’s say no more about it. (Alice approaches 
with Richard.) 

Alice (To Helen and Walter): I have been searching 
for you all over, and here you are comfortably settled. 
Where is Annette? 

Helen : I don’t know. 

Alice: Here she is now. (To Annette who approaches): 
Here, keep an eye on this young fellow and don’t let him 
out of your sight. (She nods at Richard.) 

Richard: Oh Lord! What am I in for now? 

Annette: You’ll find out quick enough; just keep close 
to me. 

Richard: I can see my finish. 

Walter: What are you complaining about? You should 
consider yourself fortunate, with such a charming jailer. 

Helen : Certainly he should. 

[ 67 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Richard (To Annette): Very well, my fair jailer, I 
throw myself upon your mercy. 

Annette: I don’t think you shall ever regret it. 

Richard: I hope so, but please don’t give me a long 
sentence. ( The dancers hme finished the second number 
amid the enthusiastic applause of the guests.) 

Walter: Come on, Helen, let’s see the next dance. (To 
Annette and Bichard): Are you going to remain here? 

Richard (Preparing to follow them): No, I am coming 
with you. 

Annette (Catching him by the arm): You stay right 
where you are. 

Richard: I had forgotten that I was a prisoner. (Helen 
and Walter walk off , laughing.) 

Alice (Returns with Arthur). (To Annette): Now Wal¬ 
ter is gone. You are a fine sentinel. 

Annette: I will go and find him. 

Arthur (To Richard): What’s wrong, Richard? 

Richard : I am sentenced for life. 

Annette : Not yet, but soon. 

Alice: Wait for me here, as soon as I find them I will 
return. (Exits.) (Dana and Portia join the group.) 

Portia: What marvelous dancers! 

Dana : Wonderful! Oh! Arthur, Richard, how do you do! 

Arthur (To Portia): Did you like the “Minuet”? 

Portia: We were just discussing it. The solo dancers 
are French, are they not? 


[ 68 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur: No, they are both Russian. 

Dana: Such agility! 

Arthur: They have muscles of steel. Have you seen 
them dance, Annette? 

Annette : No, I haven't seen anything. 

Arthur: There is one more dance; don't miss it. 

Richard: Come on, Annette, I want to see this last 
number. 

Annette: You stay right here and don't you dare to 
move. (While Annette, Dana , Portia and Arthur are watch¬ 
ing the dancers, Bichard steals away.) 

Annette (Turning around): Where is Richard? 

Dana : I'm afraid he has escaped. 

Annette: I’ll fix that rascal if I catch him. Come on, 
Dana, let’s try to find him. (Arthur and Portia are left 
alone.) 

Arthur: We are alone. This is a good time to carry 
out our plan. 

Portia: I haven't the courage to do it. 

Arthur: Nonsense! I’ll find Walter and bring him 
here; it's up to you to do the rest. 

Portia: I am afraid. 

Arthur: Of what? A smile, a handclasp, and a kiss, 
and the past will be forever sealed. 

Portia (Shrugs her shoulders resignedly). (Alice and 
Walter approach.) 

Portia (Aside): Lord help me! (Arthur joins Walter 

[ 69 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


while Alice places herself at Portia’s side. They form two 
groups , one facing the other. Arthur urges Walter to make 
the first advances; Alice talks in an undertone to Portia, 
who finally raises her eyes to meet Walter’s, blushes, and 
bows.) 

Arthur (To Walter): Don’t lose your nerve. 

Portia (Swaying slightly): Alice, I feel ill. 

Alice: Arthur! Walter! quick, she has fainted. 

Walter (Rushes to Portia’s side. Placing her in a chair, 
he bends over her): Portia! (Softly.) 

Portia (Reviving, raises languid eyes to his): Walter! 

Walter: It is alright, dear! 

Portia (Throws her arms around his neck): Have you 
forgiven me? 

Walter (Clasps her tightly in his arms). (Alice and 
Arthur smile upon them. Dana and Gloria join them.) 

Alice: One pair of doves united and happy. A good 
beginning. (Annette has managed to get hold of Richard 
and leads him forward by the ear.) 

Annette: Come on; you are not going to escape this 
time. 

Richard (Is panic-stricken at sight of Gloria and tries 
to get away). (Alice and Dana hold him by the arms.) 

Annette : Arthur, I think we will need your help here. 

Arthur: I’m here whenever you need me. (Alice and 
Dana push Gloria toward Richard, who, encouraged by 
Arthur, approaches timidly. As he reaches Gloria, she 
turns her back upon him.) 


[ 70 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


Arthur (To Richard): Go on, what are you afraid of? 

Richard (Timidly): Gloria, if you’ll be my little dove 
again, I promise never to offend you as I did. 

Gloria (Faces him and nods her head. Richard puts his 
arms about her and she rests her head on his shoulder). 

Richard (In a comic tone): Love me — love me, and the 
world is mine. 

Alice (Sighing): And that’s number two. 

Walter (Aside to Portia): Wait here a moment, love, 
I’m going to find Helen. 

Richard: Wait a minute, Walter, and I’ll come along. 
(They exit. The rest surround Arthur.) 

Walter (Returns. Aside to Portia): Helen has disap¬ 
peared. 

Portia: Impossible! Why she was here only a moment 
ago. 

(The ballet over, the dancers leave the scene and the 
guests begin to move about.) 

Alice (Leaves her friends and, crossing the room, takes 
a position on the stairs): My friends, will you listen to me 
one moment, please? I am happy to see so many of you 
present at this reception in honor of our poet-friend, Arthur 
Grant. 

All: Three cheers for Grant! Where is he? 

Arthur (Making his way through the crowd, comes for - 
ward): Here I am! 

Alice : To those of you who have not the honor of know¬ 
ing him, I present Arthur Grant. 

[ 71 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


All: Bravo! Grant! Speech! Speech! 

Arthur: My heart is touched by your demonstration of 
friendship. This evening shall never be forgotten by me. 
I am grateful to each and every one of you, including our 
gentle hostess, Miss Franklin. 

All (Applauding): Bravo Arthur! 

Alice (Raises her hand for silence): Arthur Grant, your 
friends have gathered here for the purpose of presenting 
you a gift in commemoration of this evening, a souvenir of 
their affection and a tribute to your genius. It is the work 
of an artist whose work is widely known and admired. This 
artist, who has taken his inspiration from your latest and 
most successful play, “Love Redeemed,” has immortalized 
his thought in marble, in a statue that bears the same title. 
He donates it to you as a token of friendship, a gift from 
the sculptor: Walter Davis. 

All: Walter Davis! Walter Davis! 

Walter (Comes forward, shakes hands with Alice and 
Arthur, then hows and thanks the others). 

Alice (Gives a signal): Ready! (The music starts. 
Dancers, garbed as nymphs, enter and advance in pairs from 
the left side of the scene. An allegorical chariot is drawn 
by the last four. They advance to the foot of the stairs and 
halt. A tiny Cupid steps down from the chariot, followed 
by a veiled, white-robed woman. Cupid takes Arthur by the 
hand and leads him to the side of the veiled lady, then con¬ 
ducts them both to the foot of the statue that sets in a cur¬ 
tained niche. At a signal from Alice, Cupid on one side 

[ 72 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


and the lady on the other, pull the ribbons that hold the 
curtains in place and disclose the beautiful group to view. 
The statue is greeted by applause and cries of: Bravo 
Grant! Bravo Davis! 

Arthur (Filled with emotion , thanks them all, kisses 
Cupid, then turns to the veiled lady): Permit me to kiss 
the hand of the lovely lady who has presented me with this 
marvelous statue. (He raises her hand to his lips; she ap¬ 
pears nervous.) 

Alice: If this “Love Redeemed,” inspired by your play 
and carved in cold marble, should demand a sacrifice of 
you, would you be willing to grant it? 

Arthur: At once! What is it? 

Alice : It waits for you to give it the breath of life. 

Arthur : What do you mean ? 

Alice: With the breath of love. 

Arthur : I am ready, but do not quite understand. 

Alice : Then ask the veiled lady to reveal her face. 

Arthur : Fair Goddess, will you permit us to look upon 
your features? (She makes no movement to comply with 
his request.) 

Arthur (Aside): Dear God! Let it be the face of the 
one I am so ardently longing for! (He takes her hand. The 
lady bows her head. Cupid approaches and draws aside the 
veil, disclosing the smiling face of Helen.) 

Arthur (His eyes shining with joy, opens his arms): 
God! Helen! My love redeemed. Helen! Helen! (They 

[ 73 ] 


LOVE ENCHAINED 


embrace each other, Walter and Portia smile happily while 
Bichard throws his arms around Gloria and hugs her 
tightly. The orchestra plays softly.) 

( Curtain.) 

Finis. 


[ 74 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Drama in Four Acts 








/ 



TO MY BELOVED DAUGHTER 

TINA 

TAKEN FROM ME IN THE FLOWER OF HER INNOCENCE 


I DEDICATE THIS DRAMA, 

a. m. p. 


IN MEMORIAM 


Society’s Victim 

CHARACTERS 


Sir Marco Anselmi 
Fulvio — his son. 

Amelia — wife of Fulvio, mother of 
Paul. 

Maria 


Janet 


daughter and son of Maria. 


Gorrio ) y 1 

Dr. Severin — the Anselmi family physician. 
Father Anthony — the parish priest. 
Gennaro — gang leader. 

James — the Anselmi butler. 

Agatha — a maid. 

Miscellaneous Characters 
Time: The present. 


Act I 


Living room of the Anselmi home, richly and artistically 
furnished. At the hack of the scene is an arched doorway 
draped with heavy velvet portieres. There is a door at the 
left that gives a glimpse of a tiny studio beyond, the pri¬ 
vate retreat of Fulvio Anselmi, who, as the curtain rises , 
is seated in one of the deep-cushioned chairs. He appears 
to he under an intense nervous strain. 

Fulvio: Ah, what a bitter mistake I have made. I 
should never have married, should have repressed the long¬ 
ings of my heart and avoided any possibility of loving or 
being loved when I knew that marriage for me should be 
a hollow mockery, a fruitless union, since the hope of hav¬ 
ing healthy offspring was denied me. What a beast I am, 
how vile I have been — to taint that gentle soul, place upon 
that delicate body the sorrowful brand of an incurable 
malady. What a blind fool I have been, clutching at every 
feeble promise of a cure when I know in my own heart 
that there is no cure for me, that I am worse than useless. 
Ah, my poor love, can you ever forgive me for bringing 
such misery upon you. You were blinded by love and will¬ 
ing to sacrifice yourself, and I, the weakling, spurred by 
passion, drunk with the fragrance of your body, was willing 
to permit the sacrifice, and I yielded to the desire to make 
you mine. (He rises and paces nervously to and fro.) And 
we made a pact — which we forgot in a moment of weak¬ 
ness, of blind passion, and now — the fruit of that passion 

[ 79 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


is about to be born. Oh God! the thought alone is terrible. 
And to think this should have been one of the happiest 
moments of my life. (Sadly.) I would like to see it — who 
knows — no, no, it must not live, oh, if only it is still-born, 
what a relief that would be; if not, we will have a crime 
on our conscience. What an agony these nine months have 
been. I have had to watch the sufferings of my beloved with 
the knowledge in my heart that she would never know the 
complete joy of motherhood. The doctor has promised to 
take care of everything. If the child is alive it will be but 
the work of a moment to leave the cord open and after a 
few minutes life will be extinct. (Shuddering.) Horrible! 
(He resumes his seat and hows his head dejectedly.) 

(Enter James.) 

James (Smiling): Permit me to congratulate you, sir. 
You are now the father of a fine, bouncing boy. (Fulvio 
rises, forgetting for a moment the import of the words, his 
sorrow swallowed up by the joy of a natural instinct.) 

Fulvio: A boy! And big and healthy. How is the 
mother, James? Go tell her I am coming at once. 

James: Yes, sir. (Exit James.) 

(Fulvio straightens his tie and brushes back his hair , then 
rushes toward the door and nearly collides with the doctor. 
He shrinks back suddenly.) 

Dr. Severin (Placing a hand on Fulvio’s shoulder): 
Where are you going in such a hurry? 

Fulvio: To my — 

Dr. Severin: Then James has told you? 

[ 80 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Fulvio: That he is born. I would like to see him, to 
hold him for a moment in my arms if he is still living. 

Dr. Severin : Don’t worry, he is very much alive. 

Fulvio: Alive? Then you have not followed out your 
part of the agreement? 

Dr. Severin : Pshaw, you should have realized that such 
a thing was impossible. I only promised to set your mind 
at ease. Your son will live, and we will let Nature, the 
supreme physician, provide for the future. He’s a fine, 
husky, little chap. 

Fulvio : Then I have been eating my heart out for noth¬ 
ing. Tell me, doctor, is he perfect? Do you think there is 
any chance — 

Dr. Severin: I wouldn’t promise anything, but he is 
perfectly formed and appears to be healthy. At any rate, 
we will take our chances on the future. 

Fulvio (Pressing the doctor’s hand): Thanks, my friend. 

(Enter James.) 

James (To Fulvio): Sir, Lady Amelia is calling for you. 

Fulvio: I am going at once. Come along, doctor. (Exit 
Fulvio and Dr. Severin.) 

James (Alone): Poor Sir Fulvio, these have been a bad 
nine months for him. Lord, he seemed like a different per¬ 
son, so grouchy and gloomy all the time, and so nervous 
you could hardly go near him. He had made a regular 
hermit of himself, even giving up the hunt, which had 
always been his favorite sport. It seemed like he, instead 
of Lady Amelia, was bearing the tediousness of pregnancy. 

[ 81 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


From his actions anyone would think that the thought of 
having an heir was distasteful to him when he should have 
been pleased about it because he is the last of the Anselmi. 
I know Sir Marco will be very happy and I hope now that 
everything is over that Sir Fulvio will be more like him¬ 
self. Who knows, perhaps this baby will bring back some 
of the happiness that has been missing from this house for 
a long time. (Enter Agatha.) 

Agatha: Oh, James, isn’t he the dearest baby? And he 
has such beautiful black hair — just like his daddy. 

James: Tell me, what did Sir Fulvio do when he saw 
him? 

Agatha : He just hugged him tight and covered him with 
kisses. 

James: I should hope he did — but I wonder why he 
has been so gloomy and down-hearted during these months. 

Agatha (Slyly): Perhaps he was afraid! 

James: Of what? 

Agatha: That it might be a girl. 

James: Wouldn’t that be a silly thing to worry about. 
What difference would it make, so long as the child was 
born healthy and perfect? 

Agatha: Oh, wouldn’t it? Boys are boys, and Sir Ful¬ 
vio doesn’t want his name to die out. 

James: Pshaw, if it hadn’t been a boy this time that’s 
no reason that it wouldn’t be the next time. 

Agatha : Next time, nothing. You men are always 

[ 82 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


anxious that the first one should be a boy so you can strut 
around before your friends and puff yourself up over it. 

James: Just one of our little vanities. All joking aside, 
though — 

Agatha : You like to be called papa and we must suffer 
to satisfy your vanity, and not content with that, you even 
complain if the first isn't a boy. You are nothing but 
egoists, the whole lot of you. 

James: Now you know that isn't true. Look how Sir 
Fulvio has suffered. 

Agatha (Archly): Perhaps because he couldn't divert 
himself? 

James: What was to prevent him? 

Agatha: The desire to appear as a devoted husband, 
while — 

James: Shame on you, you don't know what you are 
talking about. I have known Sir Fulvio for — 

Agatha: A saint, with golden spurs like Saint George, 
I suppose? 

James: That will be enough from you. You women are 
always there when it comes to slandering someone. You 
pretend to be such saints, but underneath you are so many 
devils. 

Agatha (Flippantly): A lot you know about women, 
you dried up old crow. 

James: Old crow, eh? I'll bet I feel younger than you 

do. 


[ 83 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Agatha: Maybe — after you get a few litres of wine 
under your belt. Ha-ha-ha, don’t make me laugh. (A bell 
rings.) That’s for me, I must go. (As she passes Janies 
she gives him a pinch, then runs. In the doorway she stops 
and calls back): Why don’t you crow, you old featherless 
capon? Ha-ha-ha. (She exits.) 

James: Capon, eh? Oh Lord, deliver me from such a 
tongue. A pretty minx, though, with a way about her. 
She wouldn’t be bad if she didn’t pretend she knows it all, 
always gossiping about someone. Not unpleasing, to say 
the least, and if I ever get the chance — I’ll show her that 
the capon has become ... a rooster. (Exit James.) 

(Enter Dr. Severin and Fulvio.) 

Dr. Severin: Now that you have seen him I hope you 
are satisfied. Doesn’t he appear a perfect specimen of 
babyhood? 

Fulvio : Yes, yes, I can’t tell you how happy I am. You 
can’t imagine the sleepless nights I have passed, half-crazed 
by worry. I could picture him deformed, emaciated — ugh! 

Dr. Severin: You were worrying ahead of time. 

Fulvio : Then, again, I was tormented by the thought of 
leaving no heir, and being powerless to do anything about 
it. 

Dr. Severin: Well, the best thing to do now is to forget 
the past and think about the future. The child will require 
a great deal of care and attention. Who knows but — 

Fulvio (Startled): Doctor, do you think that he is — 

Dr. Severin : I don’t think anything. I know that it 

[ 84 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


will be best to keep a close watch on him until he has 
reached manhood. I am not forecasting his future, but 
there is always a chance that he may become a degenerate. 

Fulvio : Ah no! no! God, I can’t bear to think of it. 

Dr. Severin: What he needs right now is a wetnurse, 
and we’ll have to find one. Poor thing, I don’t envy her 
the chance she will be taking, but the mother is too delicate 
to nurse her child, beside that there is the danger of her 
becoming infected through him. 

Fulvio: This uncertainty, this fear, is driving me to 
desperation. 

Dr. Severin: No sense in giving way to despair when 
action is the thing we need. We have no time to lose in 
useless chatter. We need a wetnurse! It is up to us to 
find her. Among your tenants we should be able to find a 
healthy, robust woman who will willingly accept the 
position. 

Fulvio (Uneasily): But if — 

Dr. Severin : That’s the only arrangement we can make. 
Someone has to take the chance. 

Fulvio: My God! I tremble to think of the future. 
Was there ever a more unhappy father? 

Dr, Severin: We’ll have to make a virtue of necessity, 
that’s all. Come, come, brace up, tears are the refuge of 
women and weaklings. For your wife’s sake, and the wel¬ 
fare of your child, the wetnurse is needed. 

Fulvio: But the thought that, for the sake of my child 

[ 85 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


some poor woman may become the victim of — why, she 
would curse me forever. 

Dr. Severin: You can’t lose time in idle conjecture; the 
thing to do is to provide for the present and let the future 
take care of itself. No use crossing bridges before we get 
to them. (Enter James followed by Marco Anselmi.) 

James: Sir Marco. (Marco embraces Fulvio, who, plac¬ 
ing his head on his father’s shoulder, gives way to his pent- 
up emotion.) 

Fulvio: Father! Father! (Marco, who knows of his 
son’s secret sorrow, pats him consolingly on the back, look¬ 
ing into the doctor’s eyes with the glance of understand¬ 
ing.) 

Marco: Courage, my son, courage. 

(The curtain falls rapidly.) 


[ 86 ] 


Act II 


Twenty years later. 

A wine cellar conducted by Gennaro, “King of the Under¬ 
world” which serves as a meeting place and refuge for 
members of his gang. The room is fitted up with the ordi¬ 
nary wine room furniture, consisting of round tables and 
chairs. In one corner of the room is an electric piano. A 
door at the right opens into the bar and another at the left 
leads to a private room. At the center-back is a stairway 
leading to the street. 

At the rise of the curtain the electric piano is going full 
force. A space has been cleared in the center of the room 
and several couples are dancing. Other couples are seated 
at the tables drinking and smoking. A group near the piano 
add to the general din by keeping time with the music, 
whistling and stamping their feet. The door at the top of 
the stairs opens and Gennaro enters. 

(Gennaro f s general appearance is in sharp contrast with 
that of the other gangsters. He is of the type known as a 
“gentleman crook” He has had the advantages of educa¬ 
tion and dominates by mental force the cruder minds of his 
followers.) 

the door closes after him , he stops for a moment at 
the top of the stairs watching the group below, then claps 
his hands sharply. 

Gennaro : God! What a racket! Stop it at once! (The 
noise ceases as if by magic.) 

Gennaro (His glance traveling swiftly around the room 
as he descends the stairs): Where is Gorrio? 

[ 87 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


A Gangster: He hasn’t come in yet. 

Gennaro (Turning to another): Well, what have you 
got to show for the day’s work? (The man addressed comes 
forward and empties his pockets of several watches and 
chains and some money and places them on the table before 
Gennaro.) 

Gennaro (Turning them over and examining them): 
Hmm — that’s all, eh? What’s got into you? — you never 
get anything worthwhile any more. Getting lazy, eh? Need 
your hide scratched a little. (Shoving him aside, he turns 
to a second): And you? (This one places a diamond neck¬ 
lace on the table.) Ah! (Rubbing his hands together): Not 
so bad, not so bad. My boy, you certainly earn your food. 
(Gennaro pockets the necklace, then turns and faces the 
rest of the group.) 

Gennaro: Now listen, all of you. It is one of my rules 
that neither food nor protection shall be given any of you 
whose hands become torpid. Get that? The more loot you 
bring in the better you shall be treated. (Enter Gorrio.) 

(Gorrio is a cripple, his body so twisted and deformed as 
to hardly resemble anything human. He drags himself 
slowly down the stairs and stops before Gennaro.) 

Gennaro: Clear the room! Get out, all of you! (There 
is a general movement toward the doors, the company break¬ 
ing up into groups who leave the room, some by one door, 
some by another. Gorrio makes a move to follow the rest 
but Gennaro places a hand upon his shoulder and detains 
him.) 


[ 88 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Gennaro: No, you remain. I want to have a talk with 
you. Tell me, how did the affair go? 

Gorrio : Fine, everything as planned with the exception 
that I had to use my dagger in order to make a getaway. 

Gennaro: Yes? Who was the victim? 

Gorrio: The old man. 

Gennaro: Did he put up a fight? 

Gorrio : Not exactly, but I was afraid to take any chances 
with him. 

Gennaro: So you killed him, eh? 

Gorrio : Yes, with one blow. 

Gennaro: Did you get the stuff? 

Gorrio (Placing a roll of bank notes and a handful of 
jewelry on the table): Here it is. 

Gennaro (Ignoring the jewels, grabs the money greed¬ 
ily): Are you sure it is all here? 

Gorrio: I don’t know, you can count it. 

Gennaro (Counting the bills): Five hundred, one thou¬ 
sand, two thousand, five thousand, o.k. Don’t forget the 
other job you have on for tonight. 

Gorrio: There’s going to be no bloodshed, though. 

Gennaro: What’s the matter, getting chicken-hearted? 

Gorrio: No, but I’m not exactly fond of spilling blood. 

Gennaro: But suppose you meet with resistance? 

Gorrio: I’ll run, that’s all. 

Gennaro: Ah! coward! miserable cripple! (He catches 
Gorrio by the throat and shakes him brutally.) 

[ 89 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Gorrio : Let go! You are choking me. For Christ’s sake, 
let go. I’ll obey, I’ll do anything you say. 

Gennaro: Ah! that’s better. He’s the last one who 
should get any compassion from you. Or maybe you think 
he should have a medal for robbing you of your health — 
for presenting you with the wonderful gift he has. He was 
the cause of your deformity, through him you acquired the 
disease that is eating away your life. 

Gorrio: Not he; his father. 

Gennaro: What difference should that make to you? 
The father being beyond your reach, you should avenge 
yourself upon the son. 

Gorrio: I haven’t the heart to do it. 

Gennaro: Why not? 

Gorrio: He has been so kind, so good to me. 

Gennaro: That is all pretense with him. 

Gorrio: I can’t believe it, why he has done almost the 
impossible trying to help me. 

Gennaro : Yes, he kills you first, then tries to help you. 

Gorrio: But, I tell you, it was through no fault of his. 

Gennaro: He has been shrewd enough to impress that 
on you. 

Gorrio : He seems so sincere — 

Gennaro : He seems so =— and suppose I should tell you 
that he hates you, that right now he is plotting against you? 

Gorrio : I wouldn’t believe it. 

Gennaro: How simple, how blind you are. 

[ 90 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Gorrio: What do you mean? 

Gennaro: He has been the curse of your life. If you 
were a man you would vindicate yourself. 

Gorrio: I can’t do it — not only because of my own 
sentiments, but there are others who would — 

Gennaro: Who are they? 

Gorrio: My mother, my sister. 

Gennaro: Your mother would be proud to know that 
her son has avenged himself upon the one who was the 
cause of his unhappy state. 

Gorrio: Stop, for pity’s sake. 

Gennaro: As for your sister — I’ll take care of her. 

Gorrio: You’ll keep your vile hands off her. 

Gennaro: You just dare to oppose me. Why, you mis¬ 
erable dog, if it weren’t for me you would have been dead 
long ago. Nice thing — you defend him, the coward who 
has made you an object of loathing, even worse than a 
leper, and turn against me, the one who has always pro¬ 
tected you. Go to him, crawl at his feet, lick his hands like 
the dog you are, he deserves some credit for having fixed 
you up so prettily. He has been so kind, so good. (Mock¬ 
ingly.) Yes, after he has robbed you of the flower of your 
manhood, turned you into a misshapen mass fit to inspire 
nothing but disgust in anyone who has the heart to look 
at you. He is rich, handsome, has a high position in society 
— oh, yes, you must respect him. 

Gorrio: Don’t go on, you are torturing me. 

[ 91 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Gennaro (Pushing his face close to Gorrio’s): Now you 
can go. Get out! Go to your benefactor, the vampire who 
has sucked your blood, who took the milk from your 
mother’s breast and replaced it with venom. See if he will 
look after you. 

Gorrio: Enough, for God’s sake! 

Gennaro (With a hypocritical change of manner): After 
all, perhaps you are right. We of the masses should be 
grateful to the rich if, after having drained us dry, robbed 
us of everything that makes life worth living, they give us 
the chance to earn a crust of bread to satisfy our hunger. 
We should be glad to work for them, slave for their com¬ 
fort, even give up our blood for them. 

Gorrio (Lashed to a fury): In the name of Christ, stop! 
Your words are enough to make me despise the whole 
human race. Yes, I see it all now. Why should he have 
everything, health, wealth, happiness, while I, through no 
fault of mine, drag out a miserable existence, shunned, de¬ 
spised. If there is a God, He has been cruel and unjust. 
Why has He made me suffer for the sins of others. Where 
is His mercy when He smiles with favor on the wealthy 
parasite and permits the poor to grovel in misery. Why 
should there be two classes, one that lives in ease and plenty, 
the other that sweats and suffers? Even Nature is against 
us because we are the victims of disease, deformity. Oh, 
but the day is coming, coming soon, when everything will 
be leveled, everything paid for, eye for eye, tooth for tooth. 
Yes, he has robbed me of everything, made me the scape- 

[ 92 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


goat, and the time has come for him to pay. I will take a 
terrible revenge. Fate has marked out my path. 

Gennaro (Goading him): Yes, get him and do it quickly 
because he is trying to seduce your sister. 

Gorrio (Livid with rage): Ah! by all the devils of 
Hell, he shall never have her. (Drawing his dagger.) I’ll 
take care of him tonight. (He hobbles toward the door at 
the right and exits.) 

Gennaro: Ha-ha-ha, it worked. Run to the slaughter, 
you poor worm. You know too much for your own good, 
anyway. With this method I kill two birds with one stone: 
remove a formidable rival, and relieve myself of you before 
you have the chance to sell me out. Poor fool, to hear him 
curse God, call Nature vile — ha-ha, he doesn’t know that 
only the fit survive, he has never studied the freaks of 
nature, the eternal contrasts — the slimy toad and the 
placid frog, the mocking bird’s nest among the poison ivy. 
We are all creatures of her fancy and subject to her whims 
from the cradle to the grave. Poor Gorrio! Ha-ha-ha. (He 
laughs cynically while the curtain slowly descends.) 


[ 93 ] 


Act III 


Late afternoon of the same day. 

The garden of “Villa Anselmi,” Lady Amelia’s summer 
home. 

At the right of the scene are several shallow steps that 
lead to the entrance of the villa. At the left is a fountain 
representing a group of figurines. Several massive jars 
filled with blossoming plants are placed here and there. 
Near the fountain is a small table, several chairs, and a 
wicker bench. The scene is lighted by the rosy glow of the 
setting sun. At the rise of the curtain Lady Amelia and Dr. 
Severin are seated at the table with the tea service between 
them. 

Lady Amelia (Pensively): What a pity his father could 
not have lived to see him reach manhood — he would now 
be the most contented man in the world. 

Dr. Severin : I agree with you. He has realized all our 
hopes; an upright, ambitious chap, and fast becoming a 
figure of some importance in the artistic world. Fortunately 
for him, that terrible disease has given no sign of its 
presence. 

Lady Amelia: Thank God for that one blessing. He is 
such a good boy, so diligent in his studies. If he keeps up 
at the rate he is going he’ll be famous before we know it. 
I am very proud of him. 

Dr. Severin: And well you may be. It would be hard 
to find a mother with more reasons than you have for being 

[ 94 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


happy. But (thoughtfully) that awful malady has taken 
its toll of poor Gorrio. He would be better off dead, poor 
chap. 

Lady Amelia (Sighing): Ah, yes. In spite of all your 
care he seems to go from bad to worse. Do you know, I 
can hardly make myself believe that he could have con¬ 
tracted that horrible disease merely by nursing at the same 
breast with my son. 

Dr. Severin : Still, that is just how he got it. 

Lady Amelia: Strange that it didn’t affect the mother. 

Dr. Severin: That means nothing; there have been cases 
even stranger than this, where, for example, mother and 
child remain untouched by the malady from which the hus¬ 
band and father is suffering, but the disease reappears in 
a grandchild or even great grandchildren. 

Lady Amelia (Gasping): Oh! what a terrible thing. 

Dr. Severin: Yes, a terrible and revolting disease that 
claims its victims by thousands. Science has devoted every 
effort to find a cure and wipe it out, but, up to the present, 
we have only succeeded in finding means to check it at a 
certain point, ameliorating the condition of the patient, and 
even then, in some cases, the result isn’t always gratifying. 
Victims of this malady are always subject to queer mental 
twists. Take for instance the case of Gorrio. My predic¬ 
tion at the birth of your son: a great genius or a degenerate, 
has been fulfilled, and in a strange manner, for in this 
instance we have both and Fate has chosen to favor your 


son. 


[ 95 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Lady Amelia (Sadly): Yes, and I am very sorry for that 
poor boy. 

Dr. Severin : I have done all in my power but it seems 
nothing can help him. A great pity, too, for there are 
times when he displays an intelligence above the ordinary, 
is gentle and easy to handle; then again, if stirred up over 
something, he becomes violent and unmanageable; why, I 
believe he could kill when he is in one of his blind rages. 

Lady Amelia: My God! 

Dr. Severin: I have seen him laugh and cry almost at 
the same time, and, to be frank with you, I believe his con¬ 
science — 

Lady Amelia (Startled): What do you mean, doctor? 

Dr. Severin (Quickly changing the subject as he sees 
Paul about to enter the gate): Ah! Paul has returned. 

(Enter Paul attired in riding outfit and carrying a small 
whip. At sight of him Lady Amelia recovers her composure 
and greets him with a smile.) 

Paul (Bending over his mother and kissing her cheek): 
See, I have kept my promise to return before dinner. 
(Shaking hands with Dr. Severin.) Glad to see you, doctor. 
How are you? 

Dr. Severin: Never felt better in my life. 

Paul: Glad to hear it. 

Lady Amelia : Paul, you have been out all day, you must 
be tired. 

Paul (Seating himself on the arm of his mother’s chair 

[ 96 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


and placing his arm about her shoulders): Now, don’t bo- 
gin to worry about me. 

Dr. Severin’ : When one is young he doesn’t tire so easily. 

Lady Amelia : Admitted, but he has been riding all day. 

Paul: True. I guess I made at least sixty miles today, 
and now that mother has mentioned it, I do feel a bit tired. 

Dr. Severin : A good glass of wine will soon remedy that. 

Lady Amelia: I will call for something, you must be 
hungry. 

Paul : Don’t bother, mother, it won’t be long till dinner. 
I can wait. 

Dr. Severin: Love dulls the appetite, eh, Paul? 

Paul : Perhaps it does, but that doesn’t apply to me. 

Dr. Severin: Ah! don’t try to fool your old friend. I 
know more than you think I do. 

Lady Amelia: The doctor will have his little joke. 

Paul: He is welcome to it. 

Dr. Severin (Winking at Paul): We understand each 
other perfectly. 

Paul: One is bound to be in good humor when you are 
present. 

Lady Amelia : And that isn’t flattery, either. 

Dr. Severin (Bowing in mock dignity): My dear friends, 
your appreciation simply overwhelms me. 

Lady Amelia: You know that we mean it as we speak 
it, our friendship is of too long standing to permit flattery. 
(At this moment Janet and her mother enter the gate.) 

[ 97 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Paul: Ah! here is Janet. (Leaving the others he goes to 
meet the two women). 

Dr. Severin : Now just keep an eye on Paul. 

Lady Amelia: You did not finish what you started to 
say before Paul came in. 

Dr. Severin (Placing a finger to his lips): Ssh! I can’t 
finish now, but later on, when we have the opportunity, we 
will take up the subject again. And you must promise not 
to worry over it. Here are the children. (Janet, Maria, and 
Paul by this time have reached the spot where Lady Amelia 
and the doctor are seated. Maria greets Lady Amelia with 
affectionate deference and bows to Dr. Severin, who has 
joined Janet and Paul.) 

Dr. Severin: My dear Janet, you grow more beautiful 
each time I see you. 

Janet: Flatterer! 

Dr. Severin: Nothing could be farther from flattery, 
that is truth. 

Janet: Oh! thank you! (To Paul.) I’m afraid Dr. 
Severin is over-gallant. 

Paul: Not in the least. He knows enough to appreciate 
beauty when he sees it. 

Janet (Smiling): So! you have become his ally? 

Paul (Eagerly): Janet, please be serious, you know that 
I mean it with all my heart. Won’t you walk with me for 
a moment in the garden? I have something to tell you. 

Dr. Severin: Run along, children. (Lady Amelia and 

[ 98 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Maria, who have been conversing in an undertone, join the 
doctor.) 

Lady Amelia: We are going inside. Won’t you join us, 
doctor? 

Dr. Severin: With pleasure. I think these two doves 
would rather be alone. (Aside to Lady Amelia and Maria): 
Don’t they make a handsome couple? (The ladies assent 
laughingly, and placing themselves one on either side of 
the doctor all three enter the house. Janet makes a move to 
follow them, but is detained by a pleading gesture from 
Paul. Janet and Paul remain alone on the scene.) 

Paul (Taking Janet’s hand): Please stay and hear me. 
You know how I have been longing for this moment. 

Janet: You are really glad that I am here? 

Paul: More than you can ever imagine. 

Janet (Coguettishly): Thanks for the compliment. Sup¬ 
pose that I can’t return it? 

Paul: Don’t joke, Janet. You should realize by now that 
your presence alone fills my soul with joy, my heart — 

Janet (Seeking to avoid the declaration that she feels 
coming): Oh, you are always so serious, Paul. At times 
you positively embarrass me with so many compliments. 

Paul: But, I am trying to make you understand that 
my intentions are serious, and that my love for you has 
grown beyond all bounds. Tell me, is your heart entirely 
indifferent to my love? Doesn’t it plead for me? (Janet 
bows her head without responding. Their walk has brought 
them to the side of the fountain where they stop.) 

m 



SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Paul: Oh, my dearest, all Nature is singing of love. I 
can feel the pulsation of every leaf, every flower, about us. 
Even the heavens, the golden sunset, are calling to love, to 
life. (Janet gazes at him, enraptured, hut remains silent.) 

Paul: Every moment at your side is one of beauty, of 
enchantment so ideal that it seems almost a dream. 

Janet (Softly): Paul — 

Paul: I die to fathom the mystery of your eyes, to cap¬ 
tivate the enchantment of your personality that has such 
a potent charm for me. 

Janet (Sharply, as tho to recall him to himself): Paul! 
Paul! 

Paul (Taking both her hands and drawing her close to 
him): Janet, tell me that I haven’t misinterpreted the 
meaning in your glances. 

Janet (Evasively): Paul, I pray you — 

Paul (Raising her hand to his lips and kissing the palm): 
This soft little hand has gripped my heart like a band of 
steel. 

Janet (Withdrawing it quickly): No, no, Paul, it is all 
a dream. 

Paul (Passionately): No. Your sweet lips shall make 
the dream come true. 

Janet: Please Paul, don’t make it any harder for me. 

Paul (More calmly): Janet* haven’t I been a devoted 
friend ever since we were both children? 


[ 100 ] 



SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Janet: Yes, and I have always felt honored by your 
friendship. 

Paul: Now that feeling has given place to a stronger 
sentiment, an overwhelming passion — 

Janet: Paul, I never thought of the possibility of 
your — 

Paul: Loving you? Ah, yes, I do love you with all my 
heart and soul. 

Janet (Sighing): Paul, my poor Paul. 

Paul : My love is so great that I live, I breathe, only for 
you. My every action is consecrated to you. 

Janet (Seating herself on the bench): Oh, how I wish 
I could — 

Paul (Seating himself beside her): Tell me that you 
are not entirely indifferent to my love. Why, one word from 
you could make me the happiest man in the world. I ask 
nothing from life but your love, and if I could have that, 
nothing in the world would seem impossible. Your nearness 
would give me the strength to strive for the realization of 
my dream of becoming a really great artist; my love for 
you is like a devouring flame that sets my brain afire, that 
sends the blood surging madly through my veins. You alone 
are my inspiration, don’t deny me your love, your beauty. 
Let me feel your lips thrilling to my kisses, let me kiss your 
beautiful eyes. Oh, my beloved, tell me only once that you 
love me. (Clasping her face between his hands he bends to 
kiss her lips.) 


[ 101 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Janet (Trying to escape): Paul, your love for me is a 
dream that can never come true. 

Paul (Tensely): It is so pure, so great, so true. Can’t 
you even return it in part? 

Janet (Hopelessly): Even if I loved you more than life 
itself, it would be useless. 

Paul: Ah! then you do love me? (Throwing all restraint 
to the winds, he draws her quickly to him and, holding her 
tightly, covers her eyes, her lips, her neck, with a rain of 
passionate kisses.) 

Janet (Ceasing to struggle, gives herself up to the sweet¬ 
ness of the moment and, throwing her arms about Paul’s 
neck she abandons herself completely to his embrace): 
Yes, Paul, my Paul, I love you, oh, I do love you. 

Paul (Holding her close): Mine, all mine. I swear 
nothing shall take you from me, my dear heart, my little 
one. Love, love, how happy you have made me. (They 
remain thus embraced for several seconds, then Janet stirs 
suddenly and tries to withdraw from the circle of Paul’s 
arms.) 

Janet: No! No! I must not. Can’t you see that marriage 
between us is impossible? 

Paul: What makes you think so? 

Janet: The disparity of our condition. 

Paul: That will not stand in our way. 

Janet: Beside that there is another, a greater, obstacle. 

Paul (Apprehensively): What can it be? 

[ 102 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Janet (Her eyes filling with tears): My brother. 

Paul: Oh, but I am sure Gorrio wouldn’t object to your 
choice, 

Janet: No, I know he wouldn’t object, but he needs me. 
Think of his condition — 

Paul (Breathing a sigh of relief): If that’s all there is 
to worry about let’s just forget it. 

Janet: You may be able to forget it, but I can’t. (She 
rises and runs toward the house with Paul in pursuit call¬ 
ing: u Janet! Janet!” Father Anthony conies through the 
gate at this moment and approaches Paul.) 

Father Anthony (His voice trembling with suppressed 
excitement): Paul, where is your mother? 

(Lady Amelia and Dr. Severin appear in the doorway of 
the villa. They encounter Janet who was just about to enter. 
She smiles at them and passes on. Lady Amelia and the 
doctor join Paul and Father Anthony in the garden.) 

Lady Amelia : What has happened, Father, to bring you 
here with such a worried expression? 

Father Anthony: Then you haven’t heard? 

Lady Amelia: Heard what? 

Father Anthony : Our dear friend, Frascati, the 
banker, has been brutally murdered. 

Lady Amelia: Horrible! 

Paul: My God! It can’t be true. 

Dr. Severin : If Father Anthony vouches for it you can 
be sure it is true. 


[ 103 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 

Father Anthony (Shaking his head sadly): Would 
that it were not. 

Paul: When did it happen? 

Father Anthony: They found him this morning in his 
bedroom, stabbed to death. 

Paul : Have they found the assassin ? 

Dr. Severin (Thoughtfully): The usual mystery, I sup¬ 
pose? 

Lady Amelia: May the saints protect us! Who knows 
but what one of us may be next. 

Paul: This is becoming a matter for serious thought. 
For the last few years these murders have been of frequent 
occurrence and the victims have been, almost without excep¬ 
tion, members of the nobility. They appear to be the work 
of some maniac who kills for the love of killing rather than 
because of resistance put up by the victim, for in each case 
there has been no evidence of a struggle. The police have 
been unable to lay their hands on him although they have 
taken hundreds of suspects and often, while one murder 
was under investigation, another has been committed under 
the same circumstances. Had Frascati been robbed? 

Father Anthony: Yes, some money and jewelry of 
considerable value were missing. 

Dr. Severin (Shaking his head gravely): Hmm! 

(While they have been talking a sharp wind has come up 
and the sky has slowly darkened to a leaden hue. Faint 
streaks of lightning play across the sky and at intervals the 
rumble of distant thunder is heard.) 

[ 104 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Father Anthony: I think there is a storm coming, and 
I had better be on my way before it arrives. 

Dr. Severin : If you’ll wait a moment I’ll come along. 

Lady Amelia: I wouldn’t think of letting you go now. 
The storm is liable to break at any moment. You had bet¬ 
ter wait until it has passed. 

Paul: Yes, I would advise you to stay. 

(Janet and her mother appear in the doorway, prepared 
to start for home. Paul and Lady Amelia hasten to prevent 
them from going.) 

Paul: Don’t you think it rather imprudent to risk get¬ 
ting home now? The rain will come in a few seconds. 

Janet: We must go, in fact we should have been home 
long ago. 

Maria : Yes, we should be there in case that Gorrio comes 
in; he has been away for three days. (Dr. Severin and Paul 
exchange a rapid glance.) 

Paul (Turning to Janet): I can’t permit you to go while 
there is danger that you may be overtaken by the storm. 

Janet: But suppose my brother comes and doesn’t find 
us? 

Paul: He will wait a few minutes. 

Maria: But suppose the storm keeps up for some time? 
The house is locked and he can’t get in. 

Paul: Then I will go and tell him you are with us and 
bring him here. Father Anthony and the doctor are going 
to stay, also. 


[ 105 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Father Anthony: I have no other choice. 

Dr. Severin: It’s too late to risk starting now. (To 
Maria and Janet): You might as well make up your mind 
to wait until the storm is over and quit worrying about it. 

Maria (Glancing at Lady Amelia): I should be pleased 
to stay, but hate to be a bother. 

Lady Amelia: Shame! to talk so when you know we 
are all anxious to have you stay. 

Maria: Well, that’s settled then. We’ll stay until it 
clears up. 

Paul : That’s more like it. 

Father Anthony: As long as we have all decided to 
stay, let’s get inside before it starts to rain. (They enter 
the house, with the exception of Dr. Severin who is detained 
by a gesture from Paul.) 

Paul (Uneasily): Doctor, if I ask you a question will 
you answer it frankly? 

Dr. Severin: If I can, certainly. 

Paul: How long has it been since you last saw Gorrio? 

Dr. Severin: A strange question. Why do you ask? 

Paul: Well, to be frank with you, I am very worried 
about him. How is he getting along? 

Dr. Severin : I am afraid Gorrio’s case is hopeless. He 
comes to me on an average of about once a week, but I can 
see no improvement in his condition. In fact, he seems to 
grow worse instead of better, and lately I have begun to 
fear even for his mental balance. 


[ 106 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Paul: Doctor! 

Dr. Severin : Yes, my boy, I’m afraid Gorrio is ruined 
both physically and morally. 

Paul: My God! what do you mean? 

Dr. Severin : I mean that it is no longer safe for him 
to be at large. I have been thinking for some time past of 
suggesting that he be confined in some sanitarium, but 
dreaded proposing it on account of the pain I knew it 
would cause his mother and sister. 

Paul: Is it really that bad, doctor? 

Dr. Severin : Yes. He is becoming a menace to himself 
and those surrounding him. He shouldn’t be left to his own 
resources because he has reached the stage of mental de¬ 
generation where he could be used as a tool by unscrupulous 
rascals without realizing the significance of his actions. 
Gorrio, I fear, is on the road to perdition and I believe 
he has had a hand in all of these mysterious murders that 
have baffled the police. 

Paul (Horrified): Could you swear to that, doctor? 

Dr. Severin: I couldn’t swear to it but my intuition 
tells me I’m right. 

Paul: Then you don’t know for a certainty? 

Dr. Severin : If I knew for a certainty I could not re¬ 
main silent, but I do suspect that Gorrio, being irrespon¬ 
sible of his actions, is the catspaw for scoundrels who, 
profiting by his condition, use him for their own evil pur¬ 
poses. 


[ 107 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Paul: I’m afraid you know more than you are willing 
to admit. 

Dr. Severin : Paul, I swear that I know nothing positive 
about it, but what I do know is that it would be best for 
Gorrio and all concerned if he were confined, and the 
quicker the better. 

Paul: His poor mother, and Janet. Do they suspect 
anything of what you have told me? 

Dr. Severin: No, and it would be well for us to take 
quick action before he does something to bring everlasting 
sorrow upon them. 

Paul : I agree with you, it would be for the best — 

Dr. Severin: For him, and for society in general. 

Paul: Don’t you think Janet suspects something? She 
told me today — 

Dr. Severin: That Gorrio is nervous, excitable? I tried 
to explain to her in the best way I could without alarming 
her too much. 

Paul: And she doesn’t suspect the true state of her 
brother’s health? 

Dr. Severin : No. She loves him devotedly and is 
greatly worried about his condition. 

Paul: Well, whatever must be done may as well be done 
as quickly as possible. How long will it require to make 
the necessary arrangements? 

Dr. Severin: I have a place already in mind and after 

[ 108 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


I have talked with Gorrio’s mother it will be a small mat¬ 
ter to have him removed to the sanitarium. 

Paul: Poor woman, she will die of sorrow. 

Dr. Severin : You leave that to me. She will consent to 
anything if I tell her there may be a possible cure for her 
boy. 

Paul: Don’t hesitate to call on me for anything you 
need. 

Dr. Severin: Thanks, I know I can depend on you. I 
will have an understanding with Gorrio’s mother as soon as 
I can manage it — this evening perhaps — and I will make 
arrangements to have him confined as speedily as possible. 

Paul : Everything is left in your hands, then. 

Dr. Severin: I’ll take care of the matter in the best 
possible way, so just forget about it. Come, let’s go in and 
join the ladies. 

Paul: Alright. It is starting to rain and I’m afraid we 
are in for a heavy shower. 

(They enter the house as the rain begins to fall. A streak 
of lightning lights the sky and a peal of thunder is heard 
as the curtain descends.) 


[ 109 ] 


Act IV 


The living room of Villa Anselmi. French windows at 
the center-hack open onto the balcony. These windows are 
slightly above the room level and are reached by three broad 
stairs. Heavy velvet curtains, harmonizing in tone with 
the general color scheme of the room, reach from the top of 
the windows to the floor. At the opening of the act these 
curtains are drawn together. The furniture consists of a 
velvet-covered living room set, a long, low, divan in the 
center of the room, and an oval-shaped table surmounted 
by a golden candelabra in the right foreground. There is 
a door at the left and another at the right. 

Time: Midnight. 

(The storm has abated and only at intervals the faint 
rumble of thunder is heard and a flicker of lightning shows 
through a narrow opening in the curtains. The scene is in 
darkness. The curtains are slowly parted and a masked 
man comes into the room through the balcony windows. 
He creeps slowly down the steps, peering about with the 
aid of a pocket flashlight. He reaches the table, stops and 
listens. Hearing no sound, he gropes his way toward the 
door at the right and stumbles over a chair which over¬ 
turns. He stops abruptly, and hearing the sound of ap¬ 
proaching footsteps conceals himself behind a chair.) 

(Paul, who has hastily donned a dressing gown over his 
pajamas, enters from the door at the left. The intruder, 
after effecting an entrance had left the balcony windows 
only partly closed. As Paul enters, the draft caused by 
the opening of the door causes the windows to swing wide 

[ 110 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


open. Re crosses the room and closes them and starts to 
draw the curtains together when he is arrested by a noise 
made by the intruder who has tried to better conceal him¬ 
self. Paul draws a revolver from his pocket and calls out): 

Paul: Who is there? (Receiving no response he rushes 
to the switch button, presses it and, as the room is flooded 
with light he turns in the direction from whence the noise 
had come.) 

Paul: Come out of there, and if you’re not quick about 
it I’ll shoot. (Realizing that he is cornered, the masked 
man rises from his place of concealment and stands erect, 
but does not come out into the center of the room. Paul 
does not recognize him on account of the mask.) 

Paul: Take off that mask so I can see your face. (The 
intruder does not obey.) 

Paul : Now, off with that mask, Fll give you Till I count 
ten. (Seeing no chance to escape, the figure complies, and, 
removing cap and mask, reveals the livid features of Gorrio. 
Caught red-handed, he tries to make the best of the situ¬ 
ation and laughs sneeringly at Paul.) 

Gorrio: Well, take a good look. It is I. 

Paul (Taken by surprise): You! Gorrio! What are 
you doing here at this hour, and masked? What do you 
want? 

Gorrio (Savagely): I have come for your heart. 

Paul (Astonished at Gorrio’s tone): What do you mean, 
Gorrio? What have I done to you? 

Gorrio (Laughing sarcastically): Ha-ha. Do you think 
you can keep up forever this pretense of not understand¬ 
ing? 


[Ill] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Paul : I don’t know what you are driving at. 

Gorrio (Goes as close to Paul as he considers safe on 
account of the weapon in the latter’s hand): Oh, you don’t? 
If you will give me the chance I will tell you in a way 
that you can’t help but understand. (His hand steals toward 
the knife at his belt.) 

Paul: You must be either drunk or crazy. 

Gorrio: Yes, crazy with hate for you and your kind. 

Paul: What have I done to arouse such a feeling in 
you? 

Gorrio : I think it is time that we put the cards on the 
table. Put down that gun because it doesn’t scare me, and 
listen. I hate you because you belong to the class of miser¬ 
able, aristocratic parasites who, not content with sucking 
the blood of the poor and keeping them always under your 
heel, even rob us of our health by contaminating our blood. 

Paul: My God! Gorrio, what do you mean? 

Gorrio : You coward, you vampire! 

Paul (Concluding that Gorrio must have been drinking , 
decides to humor him): Oh, come now, I know you are 
joking. You want to try my patience with your abusive 
words. Who could have been more liberal with you than 
I have been? 

Gorrio : Liberal ? 

Paul: Who in the world would have done for you what 
I have done? Why, I have treated you almost like a 
brother. 


[ 112 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


Gorrio: Yes, yes, anything but that. 

Paul : Isn’t it so ? 

Gorrio: If you have done anything for me it was be¬ 
cause you owed it to me, in fact it was an obligation. 

Paul: An obligation? I don’t see it that way. I have 
helped you partly because of pity for you and partly be¬ 
cause of the affection I bear your mother. 

Gorrio : Ah, pity for me, eh ? In other words, you have 
wanted to give me charity as you would any other beggar. 

Paul: Certainly not. What I did was done in a spirit 
of — 

Gorrio: Remorse? 

Paul: No. Why should I feel remorse for your con¬ 
dition; what has that to do with me? 

Gorrio: Ah, then you have helped me without any rea¬ 
son for doing so? (Mockingly.) Now, isn’t that nice of 
you. You are one of the few who try to relieve the suffer¬ 
ings of humanity. 

Paul : You are making fun of me. 

Gorrio: No, no. I am merely glad to learn the motive 
behind your generosity, and to thank you for your kind¬ 
ness. 

Paul: No one has asked you for thanks. 

Gorrio: Oh, I should be a villain, an ingrate, if I didn’t 
offer it. 

Paul: Gorrio, enough of this mockery. If you are in 
[ 113 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


need of anything, tell me and get out. I’ll see that you are 
taken care of. 

Gorrio (Bis eyes narrowing): You are ordering me out 
like a cur, eh? Well, I’m not going, and you’re not going 
to escape me, either. (He starts toward Paul.) 

Paul: Stop! If you force me to it, I’ll shoot. 

Gorrio : That is the only thing lacking. Kill me and you 
will have completed your abominable work. Now, my 
friend, before we go any further, you are going to hear 
the story of why I am a deformed outcast of society. It 
was all on your account. Because of you my body is being 
slowly consumed by disease. 

Paul: Great God! What do you mean? 

Gorrio : When we were infants we were nourished at the 
same breast. You robbed me of my mother’s milk, and, in 
payment, poisoned my blood with your drivel. The diseased 
blood of your father flowed in your veins but, instead of 
leaving its mark on you, it chose me for the victim. 

Paul (Bewildered): Diseased blood? My father? What 
are you talking about? 

Gorrio: Yes, your father was suffering from the same 
blood disorder that is consuming me and you were born 
after the germ was in his blood. 

Paul : My God! 

Gorrio: After you were born, your father, without a 
scruple of conscience — conscience, did I say? Why, your 
class doesn’t even know the meaning of the word — obtained 
my mother as wetnurse for you. She, poor unfortunate, 

[ 114 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


took you, placed you at her untainted breast and gave you 
part of the nourishment that was rightfully mine, and from 
your lips this infernal malady was poured into my body 
that was born healthy and pure. Do you understand, now? 

(Paul gasps. He recalls the words of Dr. Severin and, 
overcome by emotion, he staggers and nearly falls. As he 
grasps the edge of the table the pistol slips from his hand. 
Gorrio, his rage increasing with each word, takes advantage 
of the opportunity to throw himself on Paul. He catches 
PauVs wrist and places his face close to that of his victim.) 

Gorrio: That startles you, eh? These are the benefits I 
have received from you and your kind. You satisfy your 
vicious appetites at the expense of your health and then, 
when the occasion arises, you don’t hesitate to make vic¬ 
tims of us. I have been your victim, and you aren’t even 
satisfied that you have made a wreck of me, but are plan¬ 
ning to steal my sister, to defile that pure angel. You want 
to ruin her, too, to make her a victim of the same malady? 
No, no! Neither you nor any of your kind are worthy to 
touch her hand. You want all the happiness you can get 
out of life, but what do those of your class know of happi¬ 
ness? You enjoy for a time the pleasures of the flesh, but 
you don’t go beyond that. As soon as your blood is weak¬ 
ened by disease you are finished. We may suffer other 
hardships, but a crust of bread, earned by the sweat of an 
honest brow, and health, are better than choice foods and 
wines and bodies rotted by disease. Look at me. I am one 
of society’s victims. God has punished me for your sins. 
Before you stands the instrument of vengeance. You have 

[ 115 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


made me what I am, now it is your turn to pay. (He raises 
his arm to strike.) 

Paul (Catching his hand): Gorrio! Gorrio! for the love 
of God! 

Gorrio: For the love of God who has permitted you to 
make of me an outcast, an assassin? No, no! 

Paul: It is true, then? You are the mysterious mur¬ 
derer ! 

Gorrio : Yes. I despise you all. I could have been honest, 
a credit to society, but your vices have made me what I am 
and I have tried to collect; an eye for an eye, a tooth for 
a tooth. 

Paul: Gorrio, think of your mother, your sister. 

Gorrio: Ah! ah! my sister. That’s why I’m here — to 
save her from your clutches. No, no, she shall not be your 
victim for I am going to destroy you and with you the 
useless seed of the Anselmi. You will not have the oppor¬ 
tunity to bring more misery into the world. 

(Without, the storm breaks forth anew and it seems the 
elements are in keeping with the storm of rage in Gorrio’s 
heart. The lights are suddenly extinguished, but the room 
is lighted by the continuous play of lightning. Paul tries 
to shake off Gorrio’s hold on his arm, and reaches for the 
pistol that lies just beyond reach on the floor. Gorrio raises 
the stiletto and strikes. Paul’s scream of pain is heard 
above the noise of the thunder. He falls to the floor and 
Gorrio, thinking him dead, rolls his body to one side with 
his foot, then runs toward the balcony window to escape. 
As he reaches the first step the lightning strikes and Gorrio 
falls backward across the divan, his features showing dis- 

[ 116 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


torted in the lightning’s glare. The household has been 
aroused by Paul’s scream. The first to reach the scene is 
Janet, and the sight of Gorrio, whom she does not recog¬ 
nizesends her screaming to the door where she collides 
with Dr. Severin.) 

Dr. Severin' (Taking Janet’s hand): Don’t be frightened. 
What has happened? (The light comes back as suddenly as 
it had been extinguished and they see Paul on the floor. 
Janet rushes to Paul while the doctor examines Gorrio.) 

Janet: My God! something terrible has happened to 
Paul. 

Dr. Severin (Going quickly to Janet’s side, he helps her 
to raise Paul to a sitting posture): I believe he has only 
fainted. 

Janet: Paul! Paul! (Paul stirs, opens his eyes, and still 
half dazed.) 

Paul: Where is he? Where is he? 

Janet: Who? Who hurt you? 

Paul (Sitting up straight): Oh, it isn’t serious. 

(Enter Lady Amelia followed by Father Anthony.) 

Lady Amelia (Bushing to Paul and kneeling beside him): 
Paul, my son, what has happened? 

Father Anthony: You are wounded. 

Paul: Only a slight flesh wound; nothing to be alarmed 
about. 

(Dr. Severin calls the priest aside and shows him the 
body of Gorrio. Father Anthony raises his hands to Heaven 
and Janet turns to look more closely at the figure on the 
divan. She recognizes her brother and, with a cry, falls 

[ 117 ] 


SOCIETY’S VICTIM 


fainting to the floor. Dr. Severin calls the servants to re¬ 
move the body before Janet regains her senses. By this time 
Paul has completely recovered and he kneels beside Janet 
and fans her gently.) 

Paul: Janet! Poor child! 

Janet (Coming slowly to herself): This will kill my 
mother. Oh, brother, my poor brother! 

Dr. Severin: He is a hundred times better off. 

Lady Amelia: Yes, poor boy, his sufferings are over. 

Father Anthony: God has called him home. 

Paul (Softly): Janet, now more than ever you need my 
love. Will you accept it? 

Janet: How can I leave my mother now that she would 
be all alone? 

Lady Amelia: She can remain here with us if you will 
consent to be my daughter. 

Paul: Say yes, dear, and I shall devote my life to 
making you happy. 

Janet (Bowing her head): There is nothing in the way 
now. The answer is yes, Paul. 

Paul (Embracing her): Mine forever. 

(Lady Amelia, Father Anthony , and Dr. Severin smile 
at the pair as the curtain falls.) 

[the end] 


[ 118 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Drama in Five Acts 












THIS LITTLE WORK IS INSCRIBED TO 

PROF. ENRICO MESTICA 

WITH SINCERE GRATITUDE AND FILIAL AFFECTION 


BY HIS FRIEND, THE AUTHOR 

G. M. P. 



Mater Dolorosa 

(Mother of Sorrows) 

CHARACTERS 

Sister Maria — (Sister of Charity, in secular life Cornelia 
Caldese.) 

Ester 

Arnold — a young attorney. 

Robbio — Enrico Caldese. 

Lady Estla — his mother. 

Dr. Paul Falcioni 
Dominik — a servant. 

Miscellaneous Characters 
Time : The present. 


Act I 


A living room of Bobbio’s home. Arnold and Dominik 
are upon the scene at the rise of the Curtain. 

Arnold: Is Robbio at home? 

Dominik : Yes, sir. Kindly be seated and I will let him 
know that you are here. 

Arnold: Thanks — I’ll wait. (He paces nervously back 
and forth. Dominik exits, returning after a few moments.) 

Dominik : Mr. Robbio will see you in a moment, sir. 

Arnold: Very well — 

Dominik (Bows and exits). 

(Enter Bobbio, in dressing gown and slippers, a cigar¬ 
ette between his lips.) 

Robbio: Good morning, Arnold! 

Arnold: You sent for me, so here I am. What can I 
do for you? 

Robbio: Please be seated. 

Arnold (Seating himself): I haven’t much time to lose. 

Robbio (Standing, offers him a cigarette): Will you have 
a smoke? 

Arnold : No, thanks, it is too early. I would like to know 
why you sent for me? 

Robbio: I am in trouble and I think I will need your 
assistance. 


[ 123 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold: This is not the first time you have been in 
trouble. What is it now? 

Robbio: I want you to understand that the accusation 
is false. 

Arnold: I hope so. 

Robbio: Truly, I am innocent. 

Arnold: Well? 

Robbio: I am accused of having forged certain bonds 
belonging to my partner. 

Arnold (Dryly): For what amount? 

Robbio: An insignificant figure; a hundred thousand 
dollars. 

Arnold (Ironically): A mere trifle. 

Robbio: And you will use your influence with — 

Arnold : I don’t believe that I care to accept the case — 

Robbio : You must accept it or I am a ruined man. 

Arnold: You should have thought of that beforehand. 

Robbio: But I tell you I am innocent. 

Arnold: My dear Robbio, I am very well acquainted 
with Palmieri and I know he would never make such an 
accusation if — 

Robbio: Palmieri is one of your closest friends, is he 
not? 

Arnold: What of that? 

Robbio: You could go to him in a nice way — 

Arnold: Ah! then you are guilty? 

[ 124 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Robbio: They are trying to prove me so. 

Arnold: There is some trick here. 

Robbio: Admitting that there is, you should — 

(Enter Ester.) 

Ester: Good morning, Robbio. (Noticing Arnold.) 

Arnold (Struck with the girVs beauty and grace.) (To 
Robbio): Your daughter? 

Robbio (With an air of impatience): No, my adopted 
sister. Ester, meet Mr. Arnold, my attorney. 

Ester (Smiles and offers her hand): I am very glad to 
know you. Your name is already familiar to me. I have 
so often heard it mentioned as that of a very competent 
lawyer. 

Arnold : Oh, thank you. 

Robbio (To Ester): Arnold, is in fact, a most competent 
and brilliant jurist. 

Arnold (To Ester): I am afraid that my merits have 
been slightly overdrawn. 

Ester: I believe, instead, that you are very modest. 

Arnold : Thanks,— but — 

Robbio: He is my legal adviser. 

Ester: You are fortunate, Robbio. Where is mother? 

Robbio: You had better go and find her. I have some 
private business to discuss with Arnold. 

Ester: Very well, I will go. (To Arnold): Good day. 
I hope to see you soon again. 

[ 125 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold (Doubtfully): Why — certainly — 

Robbio: He will take dinner with us this evening. (To 
Arnold): Will you not? 

Arnold (Embarrassed): Well — yes. 

Ester: Very good, we shall expect you — and don’t 
come late. Good-bye. 

Arnold : And good luck. 

Ester: No — Au Revoir! 

Arnold: Until we meet again then. 

(Ester, with a parting smile, exits, while Robbio, satis¬ 
fied with the turn of the situation, smiles at Arnold’s em¬ 
barrassment and lights a fresh cigarette.) 

Arnold: Robbio — you have placed me — 

Robbio: I do not think the idea of passing the evening 
with us is displeasing to you, is it? 

Arnold : No — for the young lady’s sake, I accept. 

Robbio: So be it. I am not jealous, especially now that 
you are my counselor. 

Arnold: Not yet — 

Robbio: But you will be — 

Arnold: I have not promised — 

Robbio (Cynically): Do you want to create an unfavor¬ 
able impression on Ester? 

Arnold: I’m sorry — but — 

Robbio: What will she say when she learns that you 
have refused to help her brother? 

[ 126 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold: She will think, no doubt, that I am too occu¬ 
pied to handle the case. 

Robbio : Do you think that she will be pleased about it ? 

Arnold: In short — 

Robbio: You have made a very good impression on my 
sister and you certainly would not care to alter it, would 
you? 

Arnold: You are very — 

Robbio : Insistent, you were about to say, and why 
shouldn’t I be. Where could I find another to compare with 
you? 

Arnold (Nervously): But I cannot — you are placing 
me in a position — 

(Enter Lady Estia and Ester.) 

Robbio: Mother, allow me to present my attorney, Mr. 
Arnold. 

Lady Estia: Good morning, Mr. Arnold, I am indeed 
pleased to make your acquaintance. Ester has already 
spoken to me about you r— 

Ester (Smilingly nods her head). 

Arnold: Yes? I am very happy to hear it. 

Lady Estia: My son could have chosen no one more 
capable and desirable than you, Mr. Arnold, and I must 
congratulate him on his expert selection. 

Robbio: He is above them all, Mother. 

Arnold: Lady, my accomplishments are no greater than 
those of others. 


[ 127 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Lady Estia: Mr. Arnold, at every turn I hear of you, 
and your modesty is but another proof of your merit. 

Arnold: You are too generous, my Lady. 

Lady Estia: I am pleased that my son has chosen you 
as his advisor. Really, since the death of his father, Robbio 
has been a little careless about his business affairs. I will 
trust in you; help him reform — show him the straighter 
path — 

Arnold (Resolutely to Robbio): Very well, I accept, 
but I promise you that I shall be most severe and unyield¬ 
ing; no excuses will go with me. 

Robbio: Bravo! Fm satisfied. 

Ester: And punish him if he disobeys. 

Arnold: I’ll deal with him as I would with a child. 

Lady Estia: Then you shall be the guardian angel of 
our home. 

Arnold (His eyes upon Ester): I promise. 

Robbio: I shall become more settled. 

Lady Estia: And I more tranquil. 

Ester: As for me, I shall be most contented. 

Arnold: More than you were before? 

Ester: Yes, more than before. 

Robbio : It is settled then. 

Arnold : I must go now, but I’ll see you later. 

Ester: Tonight, at dinner. 

Lady Estia: You will come without fail? 

Arnold: How could I be indifferent to such courtesy? 

[ 128 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Lady Estia: From now on you can consider yourself 
one of the family. 

Ester: Now I have gained another brother. 

Arnold: Thanks, you can count on me. (He shakes 
hands with Lady Estia and Ester } then exits accompanied 
by Robbio.) 

Lady Estia : A fine chap! 

Ester: And so pleasant — 

Lady Estia: Who knows but what he may succeed in 
reforming Robbio. 

Ester: Why not? 

Lady Estia: That son of mine has always been wild, 
and even now in spite of his years, he thinks of nothing 
but pleasure. I doubt if he will ever acquire any judge¬ 
ment. (Sighing.) His father always said so. 

Ester : Come, come Mother, when he is a little older he 
will surely change for the better. 

Lady Estia: Perhaps, by the time he is an old man. 

Ester: I am sure that he will follow a better mode of 
living under Mr. Arnold’s guidance. 

Lady Estia: I shall be most happy if he does. 

Ester: Mr. Arnold is a very resolute person and will 
be a true friend to Robbio, I am sure. 

Lady Estia: If Robbio will only listen to him. 

Ester: Don’t worry about that. You heard what he 
said: “I shall be severe and unyielding.” 

Lady Estl 4: Yes, until he becomes disgusted with him. 

[ 129 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Ester: Robbio will be careful — and then, we shall be 
here to help him. But what made him think of calling in 
Mr. Arnold? 

Lady Estia: Some business matter that has turned out 
badly, perhaps. 

Ester : I have noticed for the last few days that Robbio 
does not appear as calm as usual. 

Lady Estia (Sighing): Who knows, perhaps he has had 
some difference with Palmieri. 

Ester: Oh, but you should have heard of it. 

Lady Estia: Palmieri has an exceptional regard for me; 
perhaps he has withheld it to avoid giving me displeasure. 

Ester: Oh, Mother, these are only ridiculous conjec¬ 
tures on our part; who knows what Robbio has on his 
mind — perhaps he has been gambling and losing — or it 
may be any of a thousand other things. 

Lady Estia: I hope that it is nothing serious. At any 
rate I shall feel more confident with Arnold looking after 
things. 

Ester: Bravo! I love to see you without a care. 

Lady Estia: And if I had not had you, so kind and 
loving, always at my side, I believe I should have died of 
sorrow long ago. 

Ester (Hugging her tightly): My dear, dear Mother! 

Lady Estia (Affectionately): My daughter! 

Ester: Yours, always yours, Mother. 

( Curtain.) 

[ 130 ] 


Act II 


One week later. 

A sitting room in Arnold’s home. A door at the left leads 
to a bedroom; another at the right gives access to the rest 
of the apartments ; at the back of the scene a long window 
opens onto a balcony. 

It is five P. M. 

(Sister Maria, seated on a divan, turns the pages of a 
book. Suddenly she raises her eyes to Heaven and prays 
aloud.) 

Sister Maria: 0 God, who art all-merciful, hear my 
prayer. I have suffered so. Grant that I may fold them 
once more to my heart, then I shall be content to die. (She 
makes the sign of the cross, and weeps softly. A bell rings.) 
I am coming. (Rising, she dries her tears and exits to the 
door at the left. After a moment she returns.) Forgive 
him, my God, forgive him. 

(Enter Dr. Paul.) 

Sister Maria : God be with you, Dr. Paul. 

Dr. Paul: Good evening, Sister Maria; how is the 
patient ? 

Sister Maria : Much better, but a little nervous. 

Dr. Paul: Under your care the sick heal quickly and 
surely and the priests miss the chance to sing requiems. 

[ 131 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria: The credit belongs to you, doctor. 

Dr. Paul: Let us see. (They enter the bedroom at the 
left and return after a moment.) 

Dr. Paul: He can be removed to bis own home in two 
more days. 

Sister Maria: With the Lord’s help. 

Dr. Paul: And yours. 

Sister Maria: Doctor, I envy your happy disposition. 

Dr. Paul: That is the only prescription for health and 
a long life. I hate any suggestion of melancholy. 

Sister Maria: May God keep you always so! 

Dr. Paul: But why are your eyes so red? Have you 
been crying? 

Sister Maria : I have been praying. 

Dr. Paul : It is alright to pray, but all wrong to cry. 

Sister Maria: Oftimes in the fervor of prayer, a 
thought — of someone dear — will creep into the heart 
and call the tears to the eyes. 

Dr. Paul: You are a saint, Sister Maria, and those eyes 
were never made for weeping. 

Sister Maria : To weep is but human. 

Dr. Paul: But, if you wish to be a true bride of the 
Lord you must not weep; God wishes happiness and joy. 

Sister Maria: That is so, but as yet, I am only a frail 
woman — 

Dr. Paul (Interrupting): An angel! 

[ 132 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria: No, only a woman. 

Dr. Paul: You are an angel, a saint, and if more women 
were like you, there would be no room in Paradise for any 
of us men. 

Sister Maria: You are too kind, doctor. 

Dr. Paul: Is it not the truth? I have known you for 
so many years and have seen your every action accompanied 
by a prayer. 

Sister Maria : That is the fulfillment of my vow. 

Dr. Paul: Very good! Then I am right when I say you 
have left behind the frailties of your sex. 

Sister Maria: Until I leave this flesh I am and shall 
always be merely a poor, weak woman. 

Dr. Paul: Oh, if there were only a few more like you, 
what a paradise this earth would be. 

Sister Maria : To every one his cross — doctor. 

Dr. Paul: You have carried yours long enough — 

Sister Maria: Oh no! I have hardly begun. 

Dr. Paul: What strange words, Sister Maria! I have 
never seen you so sorrowful, so pensive as you are today. 

Sister Maria (Sighing): Oh — it is nothing. 

Dr. Paul (Thoughtfully): What is it? Have you had 
some bad news? 

Sister Maria : No — thank Heaven. 

Dr. Paul: What is it then? 

Sister Maria : I felt so sad — (Sighing.) 

[ 133 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Dr. Paul (Taking her hand): Come now, cheer up. 
Some day you shall surely find those whom you are seek¬ 
ing; have faith — trust in the Lord. (Patting her gently 
on the shoulder.) Courage now, there is still hope. You 
will find them. I must go now, Pll see you again tomorrow. 
If you need me in the meantime, send for me. Good-bye. 

Sister Maria: Good-bye. (Exit Dr. Paul.) 

Sister Maria (Bursting into tears): My God, my God! 
What pain, what sorrow, tears at my soul. If I could but 
see them for an hour. After so many years, to increase my 
suffering, here I am at his bedside — and I am compelled, 
duty-bound, to help him. Ah, this is too much! (She sinks 
to the divan, covering her face with her hands. At the 
sound of footsteps in the adjoining room she dries her tears 
and tries to recover her composure.) 

(Enter Arnold.) 

Arnold: Sister Maria! What is the trouble? 

Sister Maria: I was praying — 

Arnold : You were weeping — your eyes are swollen — 

Sister Maria : Tears of repentance — 

Arnold: What fault could you have to repent — you 
who are so good? 

Sister Maria: Even the good have memories that make 
them weep — 

Arnold: Perhaps you were thinking — of your Mother? 

Sister Maria: Why not? 

Arnold (Sighing): Ah! I wish that I too could have 
such a pleasant memory. 


[ 134 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria: Do you not remember your Mother? 

Arnold: No. Heaven was very unkind to me — I have 
never known a mother. 

Sister Maria (Startled): No? Why not? 

Arnold: I was told that she — 

Sister Maria (Nervously): That? — 

Arnold (Sighing): Oh, I do not know — perhaps she 
died after bringing me into the world. 

Sister Maria : Perhaps ? You are not sure, then ? 

Arnold (Taking her hand gently): Sister Maria — the 
truth is — that my mother abandoned me. 

Sister Maria: Oh!—(With a cry of pain she sinks 
fainting, in the arms of Arnold.,) 

Arnold (Surprised and confused): Sister Maria, Sister 
Maria! (He calls her name, passing his hand over her 
head tenderly. Little by little she revives.) 

Arnold: Tell me, are you ill? Perhaps my story — has 
reminded you (looking straight into her eyes) of some¬ 
thing — 

Sister Maria (Recovering her poise): It was nothing, 
Arnold. Your story touched me. I thought of how wicked 
a mother must be to abandon her child. No doubt you 
despise her — 

Arnold: Although I have never known her, I love her. 
Who knows why she abandoned me? Perhaps she was ill, 
poor — had lost her husband — 

Sister Maria (Compassionately): Then you really know 
[ 135 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


nothing definite? Has there been no one who could give 
you information about your parents? 

Arnold : The man who found me died shortly afterward 
and left no word behind to clear up the mystery. 

Sister Maria (Anxiously): How long ago was that? 

Arnold : More than twenty years. 

Sister Maria : And you have never inquired about your 
mother? —- 

Arnold: Always. I spend every free hour looking for 
her but — up to now — my quest has been fruitless — and 
— perhaps I shall never find her. 

Sister Maria: Trust in God! 

Arnold: I pray to Him constantly. 

Sister Maria : And your prayers shall be answered — 

Arnold: I should be the happiest man on the face of 
the earth if they are. 

Sister Maria (Touched): Is your love for your Mother 
so great? 

Arnold: I love her more than life itself. Perhaps the 
poor creature, if she is not dead, is wandering in search of 
me — 

Sister Maria: What suffering it must be for her, poor 
creature, to be unable to find her son. 

Arnold: Perhaps. (Sighing.) Unless she has forgotten 
me. 

Sister Maria (With emphasis): Impossible, a mother 
never forgets. 


[ 136 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold (Disconsolate): Still — she abandoned me — 

Sister Maria : But you said — perhaps she was poor — 
and 

Arnold : I console myself with that belief to drive away 
the sad thoughts that pass often through my mind. 

Sister Maria: You are a good boy — do not think evil 
of your mother who surely must love you and no doubt 
suffers the tortures of Hell, and weeps night and day for 
her son. 

Arnold: Sister Maria, you are so kind, so good, I feel 
that I must kiss your hands in reverence and respect. (He 
kisses her hand gently. Sister Maria trembles.) Ah, if this 
were only the hand of my Mother. 

Sister Maria: Hush, hush, Arnold! 

Arnold: I would kiss her hand thus; I should kneel 
before her as I do now and worship her. (He kneels before 
Sister Maria, not realizing what he is saying, he cries): 
Mother! Mother! 

Sister Marla (Unable to suppress the mother-love tear¬ 
ing at her heart , takes his head between her hands and 
presses her lips to his): Arnold ! let my kiss serve as that 
of your Mother. (Kisses him again.) 

Arnold : Yes, kiss me, Mother, kiss me — 

Sister Maria (Exaltedly): My son, let me call you son; 
let me take your mother’s place. 

Arnold: How sweet a mother’s caress must be. How 
happy I am, what joy. 

Sister Maria: Come, my son. (She places both arms 

[ 137 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


about him, and holds him tightly.) I only wish I were your 
mother that I might press you always to my heart. 

Arnold: Dear Sister Maria, truly you are an angel of 
Charity! (He kisses her hands again.) 

(At this instant Robbio appears in the doorway at the 
left, dressed in a lounging robe. He has heard the last words 
of Arnold, has seen him kiss Sister Maria’s hands and , 
laughing cynically, he staggers toward them. As he reaches 
them, they rise in wonder, Robbio’s strength deserts him 
and he falls with a groan. 

Arnold (Frowning): That man is repulsive to me. 

Sister Maria (Going to Robbio’s side and trying to lift 
him): Don’t say that, Arnold; help me — 

Arnold: It would be better if he had been dead when I 
found him injured in front of my home. 

Sister Maria: Do help me to get him into bed, Arnold. 

Arnold: I brought him into my home through pity. 

Sister Maria: You did your duty. Now crown your 
good deed. Come. 

Arnold (Reluctant): I would rather not. 

Sister Maria : No, that is not the way to treat the weak; 
can’t you realize how delicate our sense of duty must be? 
Can’t you see how painful is our mission? Come, help me. 
(Arnold is unwilling.) Help me — Sister Maria prays you 
— your mother implores — 

Arnold (Shaken): Only for your sake, dear angel. 

(They lift Robbio betiveen them while the curtain falls 
slowly.) 


[ 138 ] 


Act III 


Same as Act II. 

(Sister Maria kneels in prayer before a crucifix that rests 
upon a table, which, with a lighted candle on either side, 
serves as an improvised shrine. It is midnight; from afar 
she hears the chiming of a bell tolling the hours; as the 
last stroke dies away, Sister Maria raises her voice.) 

Sister Maria (Makes the sign of the cross): Omnipotent 
Lord, Eternal God, by the passion of Thine only Son, by 
His wounds, by His crucifixion and death, forgive me, a 
humble sinner. Thou knowest the anguish of this poor 
tortured heart and prostrate at Thy feet I implore Thy 
mere} 7 ; hear Thou the prayer of a mother guilty only of 
having loved too much the man who was the cause of her 
suffering. Grant that I may find my children, may see them 
once only and fold them to my heart. Have I not expiated? 
Have I not suffered every human misery? I have been 
faithful to my vows since that fatal night, have prayed 
continually, have never harbored an evil thought. Thousands 
have I comforted with the words of faith, with the sacred 
devotion that has fed the heavenly flame in my heart that 
Thou hast inspired. Let me see my children before I draw 
my last breath. Oh Holy Father, one Trinity in the majesty 
of Thy power and glory, oh Living Word, pardon a poor 
mother, Thy handmaiden; grant me the grace that I have 
implored of Thee for years; bless my children, watch over 

[ 139 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


them and if Thou wiliest that I shall never again see them, 
grant that they live happily, free from sorrow. I am re¬ 
signed to sacrifice myself for them unto the last hour. May 
Thy will be done. 

(At the last words Robbio appears and listens with a 
mocking smile on his face.) 

Robbio (Sarcastically): Praying? 

Sister Maria (Facing him calmly): Always. 

Robbio: You must have many sins. 

Sister Maria: None of us are without sin. 

Robbio : Your class in particular. 

Sister Maria: Perhaps. 

Robbio: You admit it — you are truthful at least. 

Sister Maria: A nun never stoops to falsehood. 

Robbio: Why, hypocrite? 

Sister Maria (Humbly): Robbio, you do wrong to speak 
so of the Sisters in Christ. 

Robbio (Laughing cynically): Ha—ha—ha! Sisters in 
Christ; that is why you are permitted to enjoy yourselves 
without restraint. All is permissible where you are con¬ 
cerned. 

Sister Marla: You blaspheme. 

Robbio: And you do even worse. 

Sister Maria : Take care that God does not punish you. 

Robbio (Mockingly): I neither know him nor fear him. 

Sister Marla (Raising her hands in a gesture of prayer): 
Forgive him, Lord, for he knows not what he says. 

[ 140 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Robbio (Deprecatingly): I need no intercessor, I can 
look out for myself. 

Sister Maria (Trying to quiet him): I would never be¬ 
lieve that you could be so vile. 

Robbio (Sarcastically): To the contrary, I am very con¬ 
siderate, toward the gentler sex in particular. (He ap¬ 
proaches her, bowing.) 

Sister Maria: It is time that you gave a little thought 
to your own soul. 

Robbio : With you near I have nothing to fear and I will 
be quiet. 

Sister Maria: It is the fever, perhaps, that makes you 
say such stupid things. 

Robbio (Coming still closer): Yes, the fever of passion 
that I feel for you. 

Sister Maria (Calmly): Dear God, help me! 

Robbio: Don’t be frightened, I would not hurt you. 

Sister Maria : What do you seek from a poor Sister of 
Charity? You are bad— After I have cared for you so 
tenderly, too. 

Robbio: You only did your duty. 

Sister Maria: And you are repaying me with ingrati¬ 
tude. 

Robbio: You are wrong. I want to give you back a 
little of that love you so kindly donated to me. 

Sister Maria : Then — kneel and pray to your God. 

Robbio (Advances toward her). 

[ 141 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria (Resolute): Back! — 

Robbio (Tries to take hold of her). 

Sister Maria: Don't touch me! or I shall call for help — 

Robbio: Your cries would be useless — we are alone and 
your — my generous host is nowhere near. 

Sister Maria (Brokenly): What do you want of me? 
You evil creature! Have you gone mad? (She runs to the 
table and picks up the crucifix which she raises before her 
while Robbio comes nearer.) Coward! (Holding the cruci¬ 
fix still on high.) In Christ's name, stop! 

Robbio (Blinded by passion, throws himself on Sister 
Maria. She breaks away and runs, the crucifix still held on 
high. The table is overturned and one of the candles is 
extinguished, the other still throws out a feeble light.) 

Robbio : Stop, we shall see if your God will save you. 

Sister Maria: Omnipotent Saviour, protect me! — 

Robbio : It will do you no good to call on Him. 

Sister Maria: Oh, Mother of Sorrows, for the love of 
Thy only Son! — 

Robbio (Finally succeeds in getting hold of her, she 
struggles vainly against him. Robbio tears the crucifix 
from her hands and dashes it to the floor. Sister Maria 
cries in desperation): 

Sister Maria: Holy Virgin — help me! — 

Robbio (Tearing off her veil): You shall not escape me 
this time. 

Sister Maria (Beating her fists against him): In the 
name of Jesus, Thy Son! 


[ 142 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Robbio: She cannot hear you. 

Sister Maria (Realizing that she is lost, raises her voice 
in a last desperate appeal): Jesus, save me! 

(The door at the hack of the scene flies open and Arnold 
hursts into the room.) 

Arnold: Stop, you damned satyr! 

Robbio (Releases his hold on Sister Maria and swings 
around to face Arnold.) 

Sister Maria (Restraining Arnold, who is trying to get 
his hands on Rohhio): No, no, for pity’s sake! 

Robbio (Blinded hy rage, draws a revolver from his 
pocket and points it at Arnold): Here! (He fires. Arnold 
falls, while Sister Maria, with a tortured cry, throws her¬ 
self shieldingly across him.) 

Sister Maeia : Arnold, Arnold, my son! — 

Robbio: Away! Let me finish him — 

Sister Maria (Realizing that he is about to fire again, 
gathering her strength and rising, places herself in the path 
of Rohhio. She fixes his eyes with hers and screams): 
Enrico Caldese! 

(Rohhio staggers at the sound of that name, and the re¬ 
volver drops from his hand. He stares at her for a moment 
— and recognizing her at last) — 

Robbio : You! — Cornelia — 

Sister Maria (Commandingly): No — Sister Maria. Go! 

(Rohhio, his face livid, is speechless. He hacks away 
while Sister Maria proudly commands him to go.) 

[ 143 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria: Go! (She points to the door. Robbio 
backs toward it, a sardonic smile on his lips.) 

Sister Maria (Kneels beside Arnold, who has not re¬ 
gained consciousness, and raises his head): Arnold, Arnold! 
(Clasping her hands.) Thanks, my God, thanks 1 Save him! 

(The curtain falls rapidly.) 


[ 144 ] 


Act IV 


Three weeks later. 

A garden surrounding Arnold’s villa. A fountain at the 
right-center. Great jars of flowers; trees, etc. Benches, a 
table and chairs at the left-front. 

It is 3 p. M. 

At the table are seated: Arnold (now convalescent) on 
one side, Dr. Paul and Sister Maria on the opposite side. 

Dr. Paul (Smoking): Not all evils result badly, my 
dear Arnold. The fresh country air has brought you health. 

Arnold : Quite true — but, above all, I have enjoyed the 
loving care bestowed upon me by you and Sister Maria, 
whom I love as I would my own mother. 

Sister Maria (Sighing): The goodness of your heart 
would bring happiness to any mother. 

Arnold : I shall be grateful to you for the remainder of 
my life. Without your help my poor spirit would not have 
recovered, but now I feel like a lion. 

Dr. Paul: You have not forgotten Ester, have you? 

Arnold: Such a kind and gentle girl. She has been a 
sister to me — 

(Sister Maria starts.) 

Dr. Paul: A dear girl, truly, all gentleness and love; 
what a contrast to the fierce character of her brother. 

Arnold: A devil in human guise. 

[ 145 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Sister Maria: I pity that man. 

Arnold : How can you feel compassion for such a brute 1 

Sister Maria : Arnold, it is not for us to judge the sins 
of mankind — God is the only judge. 

Arnold: Sister Maria is as pure as an angel — she is 
incapable of thinking evil. 

Dr. Paul : That is on account of her vocation. Evil does 
not exist for them. 

Sister Maria: Exactly; we must try always to do good 
to others, love our fellowman and forgive our enemies. Did 
not Jesus pardon his persecutors? Love is the supreme 
source of every blessing. 

Arnold: Blessed woman! 

Dr. Paul: Sister Maria speaks the truth. 

Arnold: I am afraid I should be less indulgent toward 
them. 

Sister Maria: God’s mercy is infinite and we cannot 
understand its workings that lead always to the common 
good. 

Dr. Paul: Sister Maria speaks like the devout believer 
she is. 

Arnold : Too much generosity sometimes does harm. 

Sister Maria : It can never be too great if it results in 
good to someone. 

Arnold : Yes, but with certain rascals other means than 
religion are needed. 


[ 146 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Dr. Paul: It is the sick who need the doctor, not the 
well. 

Sister Maria: Dr. Paul is right. Forgive that you may 
be forgiven. Who sows good, reaps better. 

Arnold: Your faith makes you too indulgent. 

Dr. Paul: That is the reason everyone loves her; her 
faith has always been the best remedy for all of my patients. 

(A servant enters.) 

Servant (To Arnold): Mr. Arnold, you are wanted on 
the phone. 

Arnold : I am coming. (To Sister Maria and Dr. Paul): 
I shall return immediately. (He exits.) 

Dr. Paul: A treasure of a lad, with all your qualities, 
Sister Maria, especially those you have acquired since taking 
up your calling. 

Sister Maria: Do I not owe everything to my faith? 
Without it how could I ever have found them? I could die 
now satisfied in the grace of God. 

Dr. Paul: But is it really true? 

Sister Maria: How could I be mistaken? 

Dr. Paul : But how were you able to recognize them ? 

Sister Maria: In the first place, a mother’s intuition, 
that is never wrong and then with the help of God who 
provides for all. 

Dr. Paul : But how ? 

Sister Maria : Listen! By God’s will I kept my babies, 
even in my misery and desperation, for six months after I 

[ 147 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


had been abandoned. I hoped that my husband would re¬ 
pent and return to me, but he did not, and I prayed the 
Lord each day to give me strength to carry my cross. It 
would be useless to tell you what I went through during 
that time. One night, tired after a day of endless work, I 
went out for a moment to buy a little bread and milk for 
my babies. I locked the door and left the little ones in their 
cradle. On a table near them I had left burning a tiny 
lamp. I do not know how it happened, perhaps because I 
had left a window open and a strong wind was blowing, 
or because the lamp was too near the edge of the table, but 
the lamp fell into the cradle right between the two babies. 
The memory is still painful. 

Dr. Paul: A pitiful story. 

Sister Maria: The Lord brought me back in time. As 
soon as I had opened the door I saw, with horror, the 
cradle in flames; I threw myself upon it, rescued my babies 
and placed them on my own bed. After I had extinguished 
the flames I set desperately to work to medicate my little 
ones. Luckily, I had arrived in time to save them from 
being badly burned. One had been burned on the right 
arm and one on the left. 

Dr. Paul : Horrible. 

Sister Maria: After several weeks of good care, the 
wounds healed but left large scars. 

Dr. Paul: Poor babies! 

Sister Maria : The worst was yet to come. After a few 
more months of continual struggle, during which my pov- 

[ 148 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


erty became harder to bear, I felt myself unable to keep 
up; my first thought was to save my innocent offspring. In 
my pain and sorrow — that only a mother could understand 
— I decided to separate from my children. First I sought 
a place for them in some asylum, but in every instance I 
was told that they could not receive them unless I could 
pay a certain sum every month, a sum that was impossible 
for me to realize. One night, my heart torn with agony, I 
abandoned the boy at the door of an asylum. 

Dr. Paul : Poor woman, how you have suffered. Tell me 
the rest. 

Sister Maria: Two days passed. I did not know what 
to do with the other one. Finally, at midnight of the second 
day, after pressing her to my heart and covering her with 
kisses, I left her on the doorstep of a beautiful residence. 
I had scarcely gotten out of sight when I was overcome 
with a sudden faintness and fell unconscious to the ground. 
There I laid for the remainder of the night; it must have 
rained in torrents, for when I revived in the morning I was 
drenched to the skin. I wandered into the country. The 
thought of suicide urged me toward the river. When I 
reached its banks I seemed to hear the cries of my little 
ones. Frightened, I drew back, turned and pursued the 
voices that seemed ever before me. I ran until I fell ex¬ 
hausted in the road. When I regained my senses I found 
myself in a hospital. The rest you know. 

Dr. Paul : Sister Maria, you are a martyr. 

Sister Maria : I was saved by the voices of my children. 
[149] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


I donned this habit for them, and for their sakes I took the 
supreme vow. 

Dr. Paul: The love you feel for your children, your 
suffering and faith, will bring their reward, God blesses 
those who trust in Him. 

Sister Maria: I have already had proof of His grace. 

Dr. Paul: True. You have already found one of your 
children — 

Sister Maria: The other also. 

Dr. Paul ( Surprised ): What? 

Sister Maria (Nods her head in affirmation ). 

Dr. Paul: Is it possible? 

Sister Maria: It is true. 

Dr. Paul: Who is it? 

Sister Maria: Ester. 

Dr. Paul (Bewildered): Ester? My God! How did you 
recognize her? 

Sister Maria: By the Lord’s will. 

Dr. Paul: Tell me about it. 

Sister Maria : The other day Ester came to visit Arnold 
and, as usual, showered me with caresses, even calling me 
“little Mother”. She wore a gown of very fine pink silk 
that displayed her beautiful white arms. It seemed as 
though some mysterious force was guiding me — and while 
I held her close, the soft silk fell away from her left arm 
and I saw the scar. Trembling, I thought I must be dream¬ 
ing; I remembered a mole on the same shoulder and — my 

[ 150 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


eyes sought it. Heavens, it was there! I could no longer 
be deceived, I was face to face with my daughter. I wanted 
to hug her, to cover her with kisses, but restrained myself 
with difficulty. Exulting, I went to my room and on my 
knees gave thanks to God. I had found both of my chil¬ 
dren. 

Dr. Paul (Clasping his hands devoutly): Eternal God, 
Thou hast revealed Thyself! 

Sister Maria: And now — 

Dr. Paul: You must reveal your identity. 

Sister Maria : But how ? 

Dr. Paul: Just leave it to me. 

Sister Maria (Confused and uncertain): I would rather 
not *— 

Dr. Paul : But you must! 

Sister Maria: Why? 

Dr. Paul: Because they are in love with one another. 

Sister Maria: But it is only the love of a brother and 
a sister— 

Dr. Paul: Whatever it is, we cannot afford to take 
chances. 

Sister Maria (Frightened): Oh, my God! Help me! 

Dr. Paul: Have no fear, I will find a way. 

Sister Maria: Eternal God, I place myself in your 
hands. 

Dr. Paul: Calm yourself — here she comes. (Ester ap - 

[151] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


pears; all smiles, she gaily approaches Sister Maria and 
embraces her.) 

Ester: Good evening, little Mother. 

Sister Maria (Is pale and shaken). 

Ester (Extending her hand to Dr. Paul): How are you, 
Doctor Paul? 

Dr. Paul (Smiling): Very well. You are always the 
same, full of life. 

Ester: Don’t you like to see me that way? 

Dr. Paul: I certainly do. 

Ester (Anxiously): Where is Arnold? 

Sister Maria : He is at the telephone. 

Ester (To Dr. Paul): Is he improving? 

Dr. Paul: Rapidly. 

Ester: When will he be able to go out? 

Dr. Paul: In a few days. 

Ester: Oh, I will be so glad! Will he be able to ride? 
Dr. Paul: Pretty soon. 

Ester : Really ? How happy I am ! — but (impatiently) 
where is he? 

Sister Maria: Have a little patience. 

Dr. Paul: Why the hurry? 

Ester: If he is working it may do him harm. 

Dr. Paul : Such solicitude ? 

Ester: Why not? Arnold deserves all my attention, and 

[152] 


MATER DOLOROSA 

I am not exaggerating when I say that I love him like a 
brother. 

(Dr. Paul and Sister Maria look mutely at each other.) 

Sister Maria: That would not be strange; Arnold is 
loved by everyone and if Ester likes him, he deserves it. 

Ester: Bravo, little Mother, a kiss for that. (Kisses 
her.) 

Dr. Paul : And I am glad, from the bottom of my heart. 

Ester: There is nothing wrong in loving him, is there, 
little Mother? 

Sister Maria: As a brother, certainly not. 

Dr. Paul : Here he is now. (Arnold enters from the door 
at the left-hack. Ester runs to meet him and links her arm 
with his. When they reach the spot where Dr. Paul is stand¬ 
ing, Ester presents Arnold first to the doctor, then to Sister 
Maria, and in a joking and mischievous tone): 

Ester: Dr. Paul, allow me to present Arnold, my 
brother. 

Dr. Paul (Matching her mood): Very happy to know 
him. I compliment you on such a happy possession. 

Arnold (Bewildered by it all, hows): So do I. 

Ester (To Sister Maria): And I present him to you 
also, little Mother. 

Sister Maria (Confused and trembling): May the Lord 
bless you both. 

Arnold: Ester is such a baby — so good — 

[153] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Ester: Don’t you dare to call me baby. (Bising on tip¬ 
toe.) Can’t you see that I have grown up? 

Arnold: A child in actions, at heart. 

Ester: Why not? Would you want me to be an old lady 
already? 

Dr. Paul (Laughing): Ha-ha, ha, ha — 

Arnold: Never. 

Ester: Come on, cheer up. Dr. Paul told me a while 
ago that you could go horseback riding tomorrow. 

Dr. Paul: In a few days, I said — 

Ester: Alright, in a few days. 

Arnold: If I shall have the time. 

Ester: We will have some long rides together, won’t we? 

Dr. Paul: Bravo! You’re the only one who can make 
him obey. 

Ester (To Arnold): Aren’t you pleased? 

Arnold: Very. 

Dr. Paul (Aside to Sister Maria): What a dear little 
creature she is. 

Ester (To Arnold): Why so serious. What’s on your 
mind? 

Sister Maria: Perhaps he is tired. 

Arnold: No, I am thinking of my studies. 

Ester: Oh, always studies and work, studies and work; 
do you want to kill yourself? 

Arnold : It is my — 


[ 154 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Ester: Oh, forget about it; health comes first and — 
— and then the rest. 

Dr. Paul (Clapping his hands): Fine — you are a jewel. 

Arnold: But I have some important cases pending. 

Ester: Well, I’ll take care of them. 

Dr. Paul (Laughing): Oh-ho-ho — how will you do it? 

Ester: Don’t you think that I know how to address a 
jury? (Arnold smiles and Dr. Paul winks at him.) Watch 
how I would do it. (Ester places herself in a dignified pos¬ 
ture, after transferring Dr. Paul’s straw hat to her own 
head; then wrapping herself in Sister Maria’s shawl, which 
serves as a toga, she caresses her chin with her left hand and, 
in a sonorous voice, begins): Your honor, Mr. Prosecuting 
Attorney, Gentlemen of the Jury: The defendant, Henry 
Allover, an ignorant and stupid youth, could never have 
committed the crime of which he is accused. Do you know 
why ? Because the evidence has proven to the contrary; that 
he is not the guilty one; the chief witnesses have not recog- 
nizd him, and the Prosecuting Attorney has been unable to 
prove that he is the criminal. On the basis of this evidence, 
would you dare to convict an innocent man? Would not 
remorse haunt your conscience. Look at him; how quiet, 
calm and innocent he is. See his poor mother over there; 
how she cries. Give her back the only support of her home. 
Look at those little ones. They are the brothers and sisters 
of the accused who await the acquittal of their beloved 
brother. Ah, you would be most cruel to deny those poor 
creatures their daily bread. But you will not do that, I am 

[ 155 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


sure. You cannot understand what a mother would suffer 
who sees her son torn from her. Have you children of your 
own ? Think, then, if one of your sons were falsely accused; 
what would you do ? What would you do to see him return 
free, to the hearts of his family? Especially if there were 
no proofs against him. I pray you, gentlemen of the jury, 
to render a clear verdict in the name of God and justice, 
according to Article One Hundred and Twenty of the Penal 
Code. 

Dr. Paul (Applauding): That is first class. 

(Arnold takes Ester in his arms and kisses her raptur¬ 
ously.) 

Ester (With surprise): Bravo! Thanks. I have at least 
earned a kiss even if I lose my case and my client is con¬ 
victed. 

(Sister Maria’s eyes are filled with tears.) 

Dr. Paul: Ester, allow me to compliment you, you are 
an excellent lawyer. 

Ester: Many thanks, doctor. And, little mother? What, 
are you crying? Did my speech impress you? Don’t worry, 
my client has been acquitted, hasn’t he Arnold? 

(Sister Maria embraces her. Dr. Paul is moved by her 
tenderness.) 

Arnold: You should have taken up law. 

Ester: Fine, so I could enter competition with you. 
No, no I 

Dr. Paul: Ester, you are without equal. 

[ 156 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold: To lose in competition against you would be 
a pleasure. 

Ester: One that I refuse, especially if some poor crea¬ 
ture should be mixed up with it. 

Dr. Paul (Sotto-voce to Sister Maria): Now you should 
be the happiest woman in the world. 

Sister Maria (Her eyes still wet, smiles sadly). 

(Robbio appears suddenly upon the scene without being 
previously announced. Ignoring the rest of them , he 
marches straight up to Ester and addresses her roughly.) 

Robbio : I knew well that I should find you here. 

Ester: Well, what of it? 

Robbio: You have been forbidden to come to this house. 

Arnold : Sir! 

Ester (Mortified and ashamed): Why, and by whom? 

Robbio : By someone who has the authority to do so. 

Arnold: Your words are offensive. 

Robbio: They are intended to be so. 

(Arnold steps forward but Ester places a hand on his 
arm and restrains him.) 

Ester: For pity’s sake, Robbio, what has come over you? 

Dr. Paul: Such imprudence. 

Arnold: You shall answer to me for your insulting 
actions. 

Sister Maria (Trying to hold Arnold bach): Do not 
excite yourself, it may be harmful. 

Arnold: Let go of me, mother. 

[ 157 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Robbio (To Ester): Hurry up, let us get away from 
here — 

Dr. Paul: Not so fast, my man. 

Robbio: Dr. Paul, this is none of your affairs, keep out 
of it. 

Dr. Paul : As I am the physician in charge, I command 
you to leave instantly. 

Robbio (To Ester): Obey me, and quickly. 

Ester: Go on, I will follow you. 

Robbio: Listen! Every delay of yours may be repaid 
by a surprise that will not be much to your liking. 

Sister Maria (Looking fixedly at him): You may go; 
I shall be responsible for Ester. 

Robbio: You? Who gives you the authority to do so? 

Sister Maria : My quality as a nun. 

Robbio : It counts for nothing in this case. 

Sister Maria: Shameless! Some day you may repent 
your actions. 

Ester (Prepares to go so there will he no danger of 
further trouble): I will go, little mother. Robbio is excited, 
please forgive him. Come on, let us go. (Aside to Arnold): 
Calm yourself, Arnold, I shall return. 

Robbio: I am her brother and my authority comes first. 

Sister Maria (Placing herself resolutely between him 
and Ester): And what if I should oppose? 

Robbio (Pushing her roughly aside): Out of my way! 

Dr. Paul: Careful there! 


[ 158 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Arnold (Shaking off the restraining hold of Ester and 
Dr. Paul): You are a cur, and if it were not for the pres¬ 
ence of these women, I would strangle you. 

Robbio (Laughing sarcastically): You? 

Arnold : Yes, I! (Sister Maria, Ester and Dr. Paul try 
to quiet him.) 

Robbio: Very well, here is my answer. (He raises his 
riding stick and slashes Arnold across the face with it.) 

Arnold: Ah! for God’s sake, leave go of me. 

Sister Maria: No, no, Arnold — 

Ester (Throwing her arms around him and trying des¬ 
perately to hold him): Arnold, for my sake, for the sake 
of my love. 

Dr. Paul (Authoritatively): Get out of here. You shall 
answer for this infamous act. 

Robbio: Very well. If you have any honor at all, my 
second shall be at your command this evening. 

Arnold (Beside himself with rage): You devil — I will 
kill you as I would a dog — 

Robbio: Ha-ha! We shall see. 

Sister Maria: No, no. You must not fight. Oh Eternal 
God, protect them— Have pity upon me. (Breaking under 
the enormous strain she falls fainting to the floor, while 
Ester cries): 

Ester: Mother, little Mother! 

(The curtain falls rapidly.) 


[ 159 ] 


Act V 




The next morning — in the forest. Trees on all sides of 
the scene. In the center is a small clearing, the ground 
covered by dead oak leaves. At the right-back a small 'path¬ 
way leads into the forest. 

Dawn is just breaking when Robbio comes upon the scene 
followed by his seconds. Arnold enters immediately after 
him followed by Dr. Paul and his seconds. After the cus¬ 
tomary ceremonies, the inspection of the ground and the 
weapons, one of the seconds gives the order of attack with 
an: “On guard, gentlemen.” Not a sound is heard beyond 
the clicking of the swords as they cross each other. The 
combatants fight desperately. The first blood is drawn when 
Arnold is wounded slightly on the right forearm. A cry of 
“halt” from one of the seconds. After the wound, that is 
of slight importance, is dressed, they return to the assault. 
At the third pass, while the duellists are fighting grimly, 
the stillness is broken by a cry of: “Stop! stop!” 

Immediately after Sister Maria rushes onto the scene and 
throws herself between the antagonists screaming: 

Sister Maria: Stop, for the love of God! (Robbio’s 
sword pierces her right sida and she staggers and falls into 
the arms of Arnold, who supports her. Dr. Paul rushes to 
her side and tears open her gown so that he may determine 
the extent of the injury. Eobbio, livid and silent, remains 
to one side surrounded by his seconds.) 

Arnold : Mother! — 

Sister Maria : It is nothing, Arnold. God’s will be done. 
(Her face turns paler.) 


[ 160 ] 



MATER DOLOROSA 


Dr. Paul (Attends to the wound, shaking his head 
gravely): It looks a little serious — 

Arnold (Viciously to Bobbio): You shall pay with your 
blood for this. 

Sister Maria: Arnold — do you want to kill me? Stop. 

(At this instant Ester, pale and breathless, rushes in; she 
sees Sister Maria on the ground, and bending over her, folds 
her in her arms and kisses her tenderly.) 

Ester: Oh, my little Mother, my little Mother — 
Sister Maria: Ester — Ar-nold — I am dying — 

Ester: No, no! 

Sister Maria: Come closer — Arnold, I want you to 
promise me, that after my death — you will bear no malice 

— Enrico! 

Robbio (Is startled at the sound of that name; pale and 
silent , he approaches reluctantly). 

Sister Maria: Enrico — let my death be your penance 
for the evil you have brought upon all of us — (She makes 
a sign to Dr. Paul.) Here — over my heart— (He with¬ 
draws a folded paper, opens it nervously and reads.) 

Dr. Paul (Beading): “Act of civil matrimony”—Enrico 
Caldese and Cornelia Fozzari — 

Sister Mar ta (To Bobbio): Enrico — I have been faith¬ 
ful— have loved you — even unto death. Arnold — Ester 

— love and forgive your — father— (pointing to Bobbio.) 
Ester and Arnold: Father? 

Sister Maria: Enrico — these are your children — 

[ 161 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


Ester and Arnold: Mother! Mother! (They kiss her 
sadly. Ester weeps, hut Arnold is dumfounded.) 

Robbio (Turns pale at the last words of Sister Maria and 
seized by remorse he draws his dagger and plunges it into 
his own heart. He falls — and after a moment raises him¬ 
self on one elbow and crawls to the side of Sister Maria, 
crying in a weakened voice): Cornelia, Cornelia — forgive 
me — Arnold — Ester — forgive — 

Arnold (Remains impassible). 

Ester (Weeps helplessly). 

Robbio (In the death agony he manages to drag himself 
nearer to Sister Maria; taking her hand he raises it to his 
lips): Cornelia — pardon — Arnold — Ester — 

Sister Maria (Dying): Arnold, Ester — honor thy 
father and thy mother — forgive him. 

Robbio (With a mighty effort): My children — Cornelia 
— forgive me for I am dying. 

Sister Maria: I have already forgiven you, your chil¬ 
dren forgive you. (Raising her hand.) Now pray to God 
that he also may pardon you. (She rests her hand on 
Robbio’s head.) 

Robbio (Writhing, his sight fast fading): Arnold— (He 
raises his hand to Arnold, who approaches and clasps it. 
Ester kneels beside her father and kisses his forehead. 
Robbio seems resigned. He has a nervous tremor): Good¬ 
bye, my children — good-bye Cornelia — Mother of Sor¬ 
rows. (A last gasp — he is dead.) 

Sister Maria (Raises her hand again as though in bene- 

[ 162 ] 


MATER DOLOROSA 


diction and turns her eyes to Heaven): Bless him, 0 Lord 
— to Thee I yield up my spirit. 

(The rays of the rising sun penetrate the foliage and 
illuminate her calm and serene features. All heads are 
silently bowed while the curtain falls slowly.) 

FINIS 


[ 163 ] 





Press Notices on “Retribution” 

OPINIONS OF NEWSPAPERS AND INDIVIDUALS 

Dr. Otto Heller, in the Post-Dispatch of Mar. 3, 1923: 

“No doubt being left as to his (Dr. Pellettieri’s) general 
purpose, he proceeds to the particular object of his attack. 
He regards the habitual use of cocaine and morphine as 
the greatest and most devastating evil that afflicts human¬ 
ity, and sees in the spread of the drug habit a danger 
which threatens the destruction of the race through de¬ 
generation. Dr. Pellettieri may be taking too gloomy a 
view of the extent of that evil, but sober statistic reports 
suffice to make even the indifferent observer of society 
take alarm, and one’s fear that after all the author of 
‘Retribution’ may not have overstated is not allayed by 
the recurrent news stories about juvenile ‘addicts.’ The 
suicide of a high school pupil in Chicago the other day 
was openly referred to the narcotic habit, and a few days 
ago the death in El Paso of a 17-year-old ‘society’ girl 
was due, by Coroner’s verdict, to acute alcoholism and 
cocaine poisoning.” 

The St. Louis Times, Dec. 5, 1922: 

“He (Dr. Pellettieri) believes the narcotic habit has 
grown since the Harrison act was passed, and he is con¬ 
vinced that only by educational means can it be throttled. 
There is a foreign savor to the play, which is essentially 
of the Latin rather than the Anglo-Saxon stage, the dif¬ 
ference between frankly volatile emotion and our own 
half-ashamed scheme of repression.” 

St. Louis Globe-Democrat, Jan. 20, 1923: 

“One can scarcely conceive of a more terrible tragedy 
than the one depicted in this drama as the result of the 

[165] 


drug habit.one scene of horror after another oc¬ 

curring until the climax, when the drug victim kills the 
man who brought him low, and his wife commits suicide. 
.... Dr. Pellettieri hopes to use it in an educational 
way, for he believes that it is education that will con¬ 
vince people of the evil of things more than the iaw.” 

“The Press”—Kansas City, Mo., March 10, 1923: 
“Retribution”—A drama in four acts by Dr. G. M. Pellettieri, 
with Italian text and English translation, published by 
The Wm. Harvey Miner Co., St. Louis, Mo. 

By degrees, as the confusion of metropolitan life becomes 
more restless, and its intimate and delicate fibres are cor¬ 
roded by social disease, other than the one we usually refer 
to as such, we are becoming aware of a slow but sure and 
comforting awakening of an outraged and bitter conscience 
that is not actuated by an hypocritical revulsion, but which, 
in its sincere and unprejudiced review and criticism of con¬ 
temporary life and morals, seeks, in an exalted humane 
sense, the suppression of evil, its radical cure, the prevention 
of vice, and the education of youth. 

It is the reaction of the elect spirits; of those who, in life 
as in art, are not deaf to the commanding voice of truth and 
duty; in art especially, where often the most brilliant minds 
are easily turned to indecent ends. 

The existence of these means a great deal to Dr. Pellet¬ 
tieri, who, with his intense drama “Retribution” bravely in¬ 
vades the field of free educators, such as Zola and Brieux, 
affirming himself, and not without merit, one of the strong¬ 
est champions of modern dramaturgy. 

“Retribution” deals soberly and efficaciously with the use 
and abuse of “DOPE,” the craze that has invaded every 
layer of society and has become a sort of fashion—a form of 
snobism, I should call it, whose disastrous effects and evil 
consequences are not clear to the dream-clouded minds of 
its victim. 

The action of the drama is rapid and of an impressing 
naturalism. The tragic end, at the hands of the miserable 
hero of cocaine, of the villain who had caused his downfall, 
the horrifying agony, the drama that takes place in the soul 
of the unfortunate drug-addict vainly seeking redemption, 

[ 166 ] 



has no comparison outside of the pages of Ibsen and 
Eugene Brieux, or, better still, in those of Zola. 

How much Pellettieri owes to the inspiration of those 
predecessors is not easy to determine. In his impenetrable 
artistic reticence, he has a pronounced aversion to formalism 
of any sort, he makes a mighty effort to liberate himself 
from the orthodox contents and from the construction of 
the contemporary drama. The superb scorn with which he 
rejects all the old conventionalities of form and language 
will make you like this new social vivisectionist, intent upon 
preparing his little revolution against the purpose of the 
drama, who heeds nothing but the idea conceived that it 
should be useful, and who wants humanity not only to think, 
but tries to induce it, by education and example, to live more 
nobly. 

This is not Pellettieri’s first effort, and the improvement 
in his works for the theater offers great promise for the 
future. Goethe wrote: “Fill your heart and mind with the 
ideas and emotions of your day and the work will write 
itself.” 

The play of character has passed. That of form exists 
today but it is no longer animated by the divine breath of 
life. Pellettieri does well to select his theme from the events 
and arguments of the hour and treat it with the robust 
strength of mind and steady conscience of the artist. In 
this way his play becomes not only an entertainment, but a 
story and criticism of contemporary morals, frank, icono¬ 
clastic, cauterizing, which is a thing of no small merit and 
cannot fail to win the praise and good-will of society for 
art devoted to such noble ends. 

ARTURO TOMAIUOLI. 


[ 167 ] 


These Notices Refer to the Italian Text 
of These Works 

OPINIONS OF INDIVIDUALS AND NEWSPAPERS 
ON THE DRAMA “MATER DOLOROSA” 

Prof. Comm. E. Mestica—Dean of the Royal Academy 
Giacomo Leopardi, Macerata, Italy. 

The drama is very interesting and succeeds in awakening 
the soul and holding it in suspense to the very end, which 
is verily a tragic epilogue, perhaps a bit too sad because of 
the death of Sister Maria; I would have wished her to live 
for the sake of her dear children who, innocent and good, 
when they could have enjoyed the happiness they had so 
long dreamed of are thrown into the most profound grief by 
the loss of the mother who deserved to live with them as a 
reward for her long martyrdom. Unquestionably your 
drama creates a*void in the soul that could not be filled -were 
it not for the thought that it is only a work of fiction and 
not a reality. 

Arthur Tomaiuoli, Poet—Hoboken, N. J. 

The modest little book does not contain a drama in the 
strict sense of the stock-term as understood and applied by 
critics and analysts ever since the great sun rays of the 
genius of Ibsen rose above the scenic horizon. 

This is a drama that, in its coloring and detail, in its spec¬ 
tacular-ending, acquires a certain resemblance to the tre¬ 
mendous tragic fatalism of the Greek tragedies. The author 
does not interrupt. With rare “asides” and rarer mono¬ 
logues he clearly avoids any suspicion of the interpretation 
of his characters who speak for themselves. In the first and 
second acts, of relative importance, they appear only for 
small actions, I should say, of approach, and in the incidents 

[ 168 ] 


without apparent immediate consequence, might appear even 
lacking in emotional quality, which I would not call excep¬ 
tional but merely conspicuous. Regardless of this they are 
imposing on account of the absolute reality of the scene, for 
the minute photographic details of the incidents themselves, 
and for the natural ease of the dialogue. As a well-phrased 
prologue, these two opening acts hold the attention of the 
reader giving him an insight of the finished piece. In Mater 
Dolorosa the true principle, animated and rapidly con¬ 
structed in the third act, grows and expands to most de¬ 
cisive proportions in the fourth and reaches its apex in the 
frightful and bloody climax of the brief fifth act that closes 
the story. 

This outlines the drama in brief. The risk run by the 
reader is that of underestimating the worth of the author, 
or rather, of failing at the first glance to place a calm and 
fair valuation on the work; as it is free from abstruse soul- 
problems and sententious precepts and even obsolete scruples 
of misunderstood dramatic unity, it is no longer portentous 
of life although colored by a certain romanticism that is 
more tragic than dramatic. 

The whole is a succession of scenes full of life and action 
in a momentum, a nervous tension that does not abate until 
the finale, almost like a wave that rolls in from afar and 
dashes against a rock then spreads foaming over the coast 
beyond. The waves may be swollen, perhaps, but still are 
not lacking in force and fascination. The reality of the 
scenes is enough to cover any fault. It is strong, appealing 
drama of the old school that is good to read and even to 
represent. 

Rev. Dr. N. Fusco—Hillsville, Pa. 

Have received and read the pathetic drama of Sister 
Maria. Permit me a word of congratulation. Your char¬ 
acters are most vivid and agitated by an intense undulation 
of life. And it is life to which one succumbs, certainly. 
Therefore the drama—purely drama. 

Rev. Dr. C. Molinari—In “The Press” of Kansas City, Mo. 

They are five rapid, vivacious, interesting pictures, such as 
we would expect from the pen of this well-known writer. 

[ 169 ] 


The title “Mater Dolorosa” might call to mind some thesis 
suggested by Goethe; on reading it, we see instead that, if 
there really was any suggestion, this might be looked for, 
rather than in the German poet, in the gentle and sorrowing 
figure drawn by the Florentine artist, the MATER 
DOLOROSA of Dolci. Rather than the demonstration of 
a thesis, the author has given us a picture from imagination 
that might be reality, even though too sorrowful reality. 

“LTtalia”—of Chicago, Ill. 

The drama of Pellettieri written in good language, dis¬ 
plays a great descriptive skill on the part of the author who 
will permit us, while analyzing his work, to bring out not 
only its good points but also its faults. The dialogue, as 
we stated above is conducted with sobriety and purity of 
style, and the story, while governed a little too much by 
the conventionalism of the situations, is turned out with 
skill. 

Dr. Pellettieri who, during the war conducted a fervent 
campaign of Italianity with his brilliant articles, is certainly 
not a novice at writing, and in “Mater Dolorosa” has re¬ 
vealed another quality, that of being equal to the most diffi¬ 
cult branch of literary work, writing for the theater. 

“The Carroccio”—New York, N. Y. 

Dr. G. M. Pellettieri of St. Louis, Mo., has published a 
drama: “Mater Dolorosa” in which he reveals his adapt¬ 
ability as a playwright and good qualities as a writer. 

The Trans-Atlantic Tribune—Chicago, Ill. 

The subject is highly dramatic, the plot so ably concepted 
and splendidly described that it would do honor to a veteran 
dramatist. The situations and the climax are most con¬ 
vincing. The language naturally, is pure and the action 
smooth. 

“II Pensiero”—(The Thought)—of St. Louis, Mo. 

The drama, with many powerful scenes and perfect 
dramatic effect, unfolds rapidly to the finale; with its duel 
in the woods and the tragic end of the protagonists, it is 
genuine tragedy. 


[ 170 ] 


On the Drama “Society’s Victim”— 

Distinguished and Dear Friend: 

I have read with lively interest your drama “Society’s 
Victim.” With it you have, in addition to adding a beauti¬ 
ful page to the Italian Drama, placed in full and vivid light 
one of the fundamental problems of social hygiene to which 
only too often due importance is not yet given, in fact it is 
frequently passed over as though it did not exist, the only 
exception being when the fatal consequences are deplored. 
You have therefore, the great merit as a Socialogist-Hygien- 
ist of having dramatized the subject with noble under¬ 
standing and of having treated it with pronounced colors 
in a mode to excite real interest in the souls of the multitude. 

I pray you to publish it, predicting for it the success it 
so justly deserves. 

With esteem and affection, 

(Signed) Enrico Mestica 

Dean of the Royal Academy Giacomo 

Leopardi, Macerata, Italy. 


RETRIBUTION 

“Retribution” with its powerful scenes, is 
a work that should render more benefit to 
society in general than an entire library of 
treatises against the deadly and calamitous 
passion for that most potent destroyer of 
life: Cocaine. The realism of the drama is 
so impressing in its clearness, that it is almost 
terrifying. 

The character of each personage, their in¬ 
timate state of mind, is drawn with the in¬ 
sight of the psychologist. Their symbolism 
is clear and outstanding, especially that of 
evil, represented by Flaubert; passion by 
Michelina; human frailty by Robert, and 
sisterly affection by Bianca. 

In my opinion, the change in the character 
of Elisa is a little too rapid, even taking into 
consideration the evil and deadly influence of 
the drug. Another scene, describing more 
clearly this transition, would not be out of 
place, although the lack of this detracts noth¬ 
ing from the general action of the drama nor 
the terrific climax. 

Prof. Comm. E. Mestica, 

Macerata, Italy. 








































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